


my heart is a gauge (and it's burning up)

by zhujungjungting (runswithchopsticks)



Category: NU'EST, Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, EXTREME SEXUAL TENSION, Jealousy, M/M, One Night Stands, Porn With Plot, Some Humor, Some angst, abundant use of Alcohol, ao3 auto capsed that i swear it wasn't my doing, i genderbent ong, minhyun is extremely ooc lmao, minki is a little shit, rich peopl au yo, there's a lot of cursing, this is a terrible love story, what the hell else do i tag this with omg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 12:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13190100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runswithchopsticks/pseuds/zhujungjungting
Summary: Minhyun meets Jonghyun in Hawaii, and Jonghyun doesn't understand why Minhyun refuses to meet him in Seoul.(ft. Minki and a lot of alcohol as the mediators.)





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [minjonghyunlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minjonghyunlove/gifts).



> hello I kinda screwed around with this prompt because I forgot it halfway through (thanks Cam ;;; jk it's my incompetency for not taking a screenshot of it or something beforehand) but I hope it's still something you will enjoy hahaha

“So…” Minki begins, downing the last of his mojito.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Minhyun asks, critically. He runs his thumb along the glass of his own cocktail casually, eyeing Minki with acute suspicion.

“You didn’t just invite me along with you simply because you needed company, did you?” Minki asks. With a swift wave of his hand, the barman approaches him and whisks away his empty glass. “Another one, please,” he requests, with a smile, and Minhyun sees his secretary’s eyes follow the tatted barman’s movements as he turns around and mixes another drink.

Minhyun rolls his eyes. “No,” he states, swirling the bit of liquid left in his own glass before taking its last sip. “If I were to select someone to take with me simply for the pleasure of their company, you would be at the bottom of my list.”

“Harsh,” Minki notes, sticking out his bottom lip. But it curls back into a smile when the barman returns with his new drink. He tucks a strand of his pristine blonde hair behind his ear, fluttering his eyes as he thanks the barman.

“And besides,” Minhyun notes, raising an eyebrow and tapping a finger on the side of his own glass, motioning for a refill of his drink, “you seem quite content on seeking out comfort from others.”

Minki all but snorts, yet he offers no reply.

“I only decided to take you with me in case something from the office comes up--” Minhyun's eyes briefly flit around, “--which it most certainly will. And on a more serious note, I know you can fight.”

“You’re not going to attempt to throw me in an illegal dog fighting ring, are you?” Minki asks. His expression is entirely emotionless, and he peers at Minhyun over the edge of his glass as he drinks, although Minhyun realizes that he is joking.

“We need to be more careful after the attempted assassination of Runway’s director. But why hire a temporary bodyguard when your secretary has earned gold at the national level in judo?” Minhyun asks, now having raised both his eyebrows. He takes a sip of his rum at the same time as Minki takes the second sip of his mojito, as if he were attempting to toast him.

“Oh, you’ve caught me,” Minki monotonously jests, but both of the men realize that none of their secrets would ever be hidden from each other from long. “Will you be attending the cocktail party later tonight? Wu Yifan will be there,” Minki asks.

“Of course,” Minhyun immediately replies, and he’s already standing up, reaching into the breastpocket of his suit jacket and slipping his credit card across the table to the barman. “His tab and mine,” he notes, nudging his head in Minki’s direction.

“Terribly kind,” Minki hums, and Minhyun simply sighs, realizing that this is Minki’s way of backhandedly displaying his gratitude. “I’ll see you later, Mr. Hwang,” he says, offering a half-hearted wave, and if anyone besides Minki had displayed such disrespect to him, Minhyun would’ve fired them by now.

Minhyun sighs as he pushes open the door of the bar, closing his eyes momentarily. When he opens them, he allocates a few seconds to properly absorb his surroundings, all the way from the moist stickiness of the humid Hawaiian air against his skin to the buzz of other vacationers around him to the plethora of scents from both both fast food and dine-in restaurants. He hooks two of his fingers against the knot of his tie, tugging back and forth slightly to lessen the pressure of his collar against his neck. Why Choi Siwon, the director of Condé Nast Korea, decided to host his annual conference on an island in the dead middle of nowhere, Minhyun has no clue, and his slight grudge for the man blossoms even more at this fact. Lifting his wrist, he sees the number _17_ on his watch glaring back at him, and he grits his teeth, straightening his shoulders as he breezes down the boardwalk in front of the numerous rows of venues. Tonight’s party--and therefore tonight’s opportunity to network, impress, and degrade--would begin in three hours -- he might as well read a book and nap in the meantime.

* * *

“Looking snappy as always, Mr. Hwang,” Minki greets, as he is buttoning his suit jacket.

“Don’t you mean ‘snazzy’?” Minhyun replies, raising an eyebrow as he leans against the doorframe to Minki’s room.

“I mean what I say,” Minki quips. As he breezes past Minhyun and out into the hallway, he notes, “Eau de Cedre? Classy. Who might you be looking to impress?” Minhyun joins his side in striding down the hallway, and Minki swings his arms back and forth casually in a nature completely paradoxical to what one might expect from a man wearing a tailored, cleanly pressed suit, hair professionally slicked away from his face. _His mannerisms are just like those of a monkey, Minhyun thinks._ “Seo Yuna? Shin Hyejeong? Kim Chanmi?”

Minhyun rolls his eyes. “Maybe I should say that for you,” he teases, smirking, and shifts the position of his tie slightly with his index finger. “You know who I’m here to impress.”

“Ah, yes,” Minki hums approvingly, “the original GQ gangster himself.”

“If you say so,” Minhyun responds, with an exasperated sigh -- slightly exaggerated, because this is _Minki_ he is talking to, “although please do not call him that at the party. In fact, please avoid him at all costs. If we manage to land a contract deal with him, then that’ll boost this end-of-year’s sales exponentially. I don’t need him to think that my company is full of clowns.”

“Of course,” Minki jests, smiling at Minhyun with that coy grin of his, “whatever you say, Mr. Hwang Minhyun.” Minhyun lets him walk ahead, shaking his head at Minki’s antics. The two men leave together out of the hotel, heading towards the docks overlooking part of the beach. There’s already strings of light up ahead, having been woven across the trusses and poles that loom over the wooden platform. Minhyun hears the soft chatter of people, a few _clinks_ of glasses, and subdued violin music playing.

He and Minki walk up the steps to the platform, and they both stand there, hands tucked into their pants pockets as they take a moment to properly absorb the scene.

“Good evening, gentleman,” says a waiter, approaching them with a silver tray balanced on the fingerpads of one of his hands, “welcome.” He smiles amiably, bowing once to each of the men. His form is pristine, and the limb of his that supports the tray hardly moves as he greets them. For once, Minhyun notes, the help they’ve hired knows how to behave cleanly; but then again, it is expected of someone like Choi Siwon.

“May I interest you in a drink?” the waiter asks, bringing his tray down to torso level. Minhyun and Minki both graciously accept the glasses, and the waiter slips away from the corners of their vision.

Minki holds the stem of his glass, rubbing the base of the cone. “Mint,” he notes, having swallowed his first sip. “Bourbon.” He takes another sip, and Minhyun watches him carefully. “Booker’s, too.”

“Hmm, are they trying to drug us?” Minhyun murmurs, with a slight chuckle, as he brings his glass to his lips. Minki laughs at his comment, swirling the contents of his own glass. “You’re right,” Minhyun says, after having taken a drink. “Even after all these years, it still amazes me how easily you’re able to distinguish alcohol down to the brand.”

“Experience,” Minki explains, “I’ve got through a lot of hardships in my life.” Both men have a small laugh at that statement, before Minhyun states that he’s going to start his routine socializing. Minki fades from his vision, presumably off somewhere to do his own networking--and flirting, probably--Minhyun briefly wonders who’ll be lured into his secretary’s bed tonight. Shall it be a male? Female? What position would they hold? Associate? Assistant? Director? Maybe a stray model? He inwardly smiles as he paces his way around, one hand gently holding the stem of his cocktail glass, a finger idly tapping the side of the cone.

A woman, standing near one of the circular tables towards the center of the platform, catches his eye. He smiles charmingly and makes his way towards her.

“Good evening, miss,” he greets, and he holds out a palm. She places her hand in his, and he brings it up to his lips, lightly kissing the back of her hand. As he lets his arm down, she tucks a portion of her hair behind her ear. _Hmm_ , Minhyun thinks. Flirting or not?

“Hello, sir,” she says, and her voice quality is a little airy, but the tone she speaks with is confident and assertive. “With whom do I have the pleasure of acquainting this fine evening?”

Minhyun slips a hand into the breast of his suit jacket, extracting a single card clasped between his index and middle fingers. He holds it out, and the lady graciously takes it.

“Hwang Minhyun, CEO of Canvas Advertising Agency,” he states. The lady hums.

“Fancy,” she notes, before carelessly placing the card down on the table next to her. Minhyun raises his eyebrows at her action. He does not necessarily consider her response rude, but rather, it had completely caught him off guard.

“And with whom may I have the pleasure of acquainting, miss?” Minhyun asks. He taps his index finger on his glass -- this woman is interesting, he thinks. The first to ever have only just met him without falling to his feet; and quite a stunning woman at that, boasting features that are somehow simultaneously conventional and striking, adorned with an expression and grace that exudes wealth, slyness, and character.

The lady unbuttons her clutch, extracting her own card and handing it to Minhyun. “Zhou Jieqiong. Director of Nielsen China.”

“China, eh?” Minhyun says, and he tucks the card into his pocket. Jieqiong smiles at the action, tilting her head slightly so that the chain of her earring falls down onto her collar, and Minhyun sees it drape over her collarbone, the silver gracefully shaping the ridge of skin. “Your Korean is impeccable,” he notes, gaze working its way back up to Jieqiong’s face.

“Why thank you, Mr. Hwang,” Jieqiong replies. “And yours is too,” she adds, with a shrewd smile.

Minhyun laughs shortly at her statement. “Forgive me,” he responds, “maybe I spoke too candidly.”

“It is nothing,” Jieqiong hums, with a wave of her hand, “you are forgiven.” The bracelet on her wrist sparkles with the lights from above, and Minhyun catches himself noticing the mastery of the weaving of the stones amidst silver.

“ _Cartier_ ,” he notes, “ _Reflection de Cartier_?” He takes a sip of his cocktail, glancing at Jieqiong over the edge of the glass.

“Good eye, Mr. Hwang,” Jieqiong replies, with a smile. With another movement of her hand, Minhyun sees the reflection of the crystals in the strings of lights. He can pick out their individual glimmers, and at the back of his mind, he notes the sheer power representative of not only the Cartier brand, but their _Reflection de Cartier_ collection as well. Meticulous metalwork, diamonds of individual cuts, impeccable setting, all packaged with a white-gold base and complex design. Minhyun’s eyes float back up to Jieqiong’s face, and he smiles calculatingly.

“You have lovely taste in jewelry,” he comments.

“That is quite sweet of you to say,” Jieqiong hums. Minhyun reasons, _Ah, so the bracelet was not just a gift._ The smile on his face grows ever-so-slightly wider, and he thinks, _Beauty, power, wealth, intelligence. Just my type._ He’s about to ask if Jieqiong would so kindly come with him to chat with the others, even going so far as to offer his arm for her to hold onto -- but at that moment, a man approaches the both of them. Minhyun glances over, and for a moment he doesn’t recognize who the man is, for since last time Minhyun saw him, he had shaved his head. But the tell-tale rose-tinted silver-wired sunglasses and gunmetal piercings lining the helix of one ear gives his identity away easily.

“Ah, Mr. Wu,” Jieqiong greets, bowing lightly to him.

“No need to bow, Miss Zhou,” the man replies, casually waving his hand. He extends his arm, and Jieqiong takes his palm easily in a handshake. “Who may your friend here be?”

“Hwang Minhyun, sir,” Minhyun immediately responds, and he’s already got a hand sliding into the breast of his suitjacket, extracting another card held between two fingers. “CEO of Canvas Advertising Agency. I spoke to you once about the possibility of our companies contracting for your upcoming fall-winter volumes.”

“Canvas, hmmm?” the man hums, scrutinizing Minhyun’s card for a moment, before he tucks it in his pocket. “Ah, you probably know me already, then, but I still must go about introducing myself.” He cracks a grin -- it’s relaxed, laughing almost, a contrast to the rather serious and slightly uptight environment. “Wu Yifan. Director of GQ China.” He slips out a hand towards Minhyun.

Minhyun takes his palm and shakes it firmly -- not too soft a shake, so that he appears meek, but not too harsh so that he appears overbearing.

“Pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Mr. Wu,” Minhyun replies, with a charming smile. He’s about to throw himself into a discussion on the formalities of a contract, but Yifan interrupts him.

“Well, now that we all know each other,” he says, holding up a hand, “there’s some people I would like to introduce you and Miss Zhou to, especially if our companies will be working together.”

 _Ah, yes,_ Minhyun thinks, and he inwardly scolds himself, _it is probably best to get the socializing done beforehand._ He nods approvingly, and Yifan smiles as he turns around without another word. Jieqiong is already at his side, and she turns her head, looking over her shoulder expectantly.

Minhyun quickly shuffles his feet, unfazed. He takes mental note of each single person Yifan introduces him to. There’re some he’s already known before, such as Shin Hyejeong, CEO of Goshen International--one of Minki’s failed conquests, Minhyun notes, and he smiles because Hyejeong is someone fit for a man like Minhyun, _not_ Minki--and a couple of her most successful models, Seo Yuna and Kim Chanmi. There’s Kang Minkyung, a director in one of Canvas’s competing agencies--although, Minhyun is still nonetheless pleased to see her, as she has proven an amiable friend outside of the workplace--and her older brother, Kang Daesung, who owns one of the largest publishing houses in Korea. Jieqiong excuses herself sometime later, as she spots a good friends of hers. “Let’s keep contact, alright?” Minhyun asks, “I would like to take you out to dinner sometime, Miss Zhou.”

But then Jieqiong just reminds him, with a sly smile, “I left your card on the table, Mr. Hwang.”

Yifan laughs heartily at her comment, as Minhyun is left stupefied in the dust. He pats Minhyun on the shoulder and says, “Don’t feel too heartbroken, Mr. Hwang. Miss Zhou is not one easily to become enchanted.”

A little later, when he is engulfed in chatter with Yifan and two of his associates, Do Kyungsoo and Lu Han, Minhyun spots something--or more like some _one_ \--from across the platform. He immediately thinks that it is Jieqiong because of the calculating beauty he sees simply from their side profile, but then he realizes it cannot be, because not only is this person male, but Minhyun comes to notice that their physical features are quite stark in comparison to those of Jieqiong.

Sharp jawline, high nose bridge, a collected smile, hair darker than the backdrop of the evening sky. Yet, behind those acute characteristics, based upon the way his lips curve and his hands move as he speaks, Minhyun figures there is something behind him that is softer, but not necessarily the kind of soft that dictates weakness. He is immediately intrigued.

“Excuse me, Mr. Wu, Mr. Lu, and Mr. Do,” Minhyun says, with a bow, “there is something I must attend to.”

“Of course. I am sorry for taking up so much of your time,” Yifan replies, with a short wave. All three men bow in return, and Minhyun breaks himself away from the group. But to his surprise, a moment later, the man that interested him so much steps off of the platform and down onto the beach grass, tucking his hands into his jean pockets and walking away. Minhyun pauses in his steps, and he realizes that _oh,_ the man must not be here for Choi Siwon’s party -- he’s not even wearing formalwear.

He frowns, staring at the receding back of the man, but a moment later, Minki appears at his side, nudging him in the elbow.

“Mr. Hwang Minhyun,” Minki says, prodding at Minhyun with a cocktail glass. Not very surprisingly, he’s holding two. “What might have stupefied the all-mighty Hwang Minhyun?”

Minhyun sighs. “That is none of your business, Minki,” he chides, turning around.

“If you say so,” Minki hums, and Minhyun briefly wonders how his secretary is not stupidly drunk at this hour into the party. “But remember, I am also the one that knows and decides who, where, why, and how you are to meet with people.” He downs the rest of the liquid in one of his glasses.

Minhyun takes a moment to contemplate why in the world someone like _Minki_ is his secretary -- he’s about to snark back a snide comment, but he bites his tongue, because it is most definitely true that Minki knows about almost all of his whereabouts and comings.

* * *

Drinking at a bar alone. A sign of loneliness, depression, vulnerability. Minhyun’s lips curl into his glass. He is none of those things, yet he is still here. Minki is not late, no -- Minhyun just happened to be here early. Setting down his drink, Minhyun picks up his stylus and scribbles a few notes down on the screen of his phone. _Contract extension. Filming site relocation. Billboard vandalization._ All things he needs to discuss with his secretary -- he’d gotten the call from Jaehwan earlier in the day. Why is Jaehwan the VP, again? He’s inept. Indecisive without Minhyun’s firm hand backing him up. Oh, that’s right, the workers favor him and he’s got good advertising instinct -- past the use of human psychology Minhyun employs in order to manipulate viewers’ desires.

Minhyun sighs, tucking his stylus back into its slot at the top of his phone. Seven minutes until Minki’s supposed to be here. He might as well read something. There’s the news, or there’s the briefing summary Minki’d created for the company meeting scheduled two days after their arrival back in Seoul.

At that moment, as he’s thoroughly sorting through the advantages and disadvantages at opening up Reddit in the middle of a bar, the bar door opens, the bell attached to the handle jingling. Around this time of the day, there’re not so many bar-goers -- just those that prefer to get their drunken capacities filled before three in the afternoon, or rowdy fratboy tourists that barhop their way from the late afternoon to the early morning. The chatter within the room is mellow, and Minhyun hears the bell easily; he lifts his head, looking over, and raises his eyebrows at who he sees.

The man that’d just walked in, Minhyun’s seen him before. In fact, he saw him last night -- it’s the man he’d been eyeing at the party, only to see him to turn and walk away because he hadn’t been one of the party guests.   
A high frontal profile that’s reminiscent of a man like Minhyun -- calculating, a little bit shrewd, stubborn, but again, there’s something else in his expression--is it permanent, maybe?--that eludes to a pliability that’s not necessarily weakness. The softness makes something inside Minhyun itch, and he taps two of his fingers against the oak of the bar table.

As if he knew someone were watching him, the man looks across the room and meets Minhyun’s eyes. Minhyun smiles charmingly. He turns away, his back now facing the man, and tucks his phone in his pocket before picking up his glass and taking a slow sip.

A minute later, his lips curl up into a knowing smile as he feels the shadow of a body slip quietly into the stool next to him.

Minhyun lifts his head. He downs the rest of his drink and waves over the bartender to fill him another glass. When the bartender walks away with his empty glass, he turns his head and gazes mildly at the man next to him. “Afternoon,” he greets, relaxed.

“Good afternoon,” the man returns. His voice is slightly pitched in a raspy way. Minhyun likes it. The bartender returns with a new glass, setting it down in front of him, and Minhyun wraps his fingers around its circumference. “What’s your name?”

The man turns his cheek towards Minhyun, and now that Minhyun receives a proper look of his face, he finds his gaze flitting around, unsure of where to look; but finally, his eyes settle on the man’s own gaze. The corners of his eyes are slightly slanted, maybe so down--or is that just a side effect of his current expression? Could his eyes change?--yet currently, they make him look a little bit sly and no less as attractive as Minhyun had first found him. In fact, Minhyun is even more enthralled.

“Kim Jonghyun,” the man replies, his voice controlled. He smiles at Minhyun, and as he does so, a bit of his tongue peeks out of the corner of his mouth, as if he were about to lick his lips.

“Well, Kim Jonghyun,” Minhyun begins, bringing his glass to his lips and taking a sip, all while maintaining eye contact with Jonghyun, “will you not order a drink?”

“What would you suggest for me--” Jonghyun’s eyes flit up and down Minhyun’s face.

“Hwang Minhyun,” Minhyun fills in.

“--Mister Hwang Minhyun?” The “t” in _mister_ is emphasized, and Jonghyun’s smile grows into something closer to a smirk.

“Blanton’s, perhaps,” Minhyun replies, holding up his glass and slightly raising an eyebrow as if he were to toast Jonghyun. “Excuse me,” he says, setting down his glass and waving the bartender over. “A glass of Blanton’s for this gentleman here.” He gestures towards Jonghyun. “On my tab, please.”

“Quite kind of you,” Jonghyun notes, turning his body towards Minhyun. He rests a cheek on a fist. “Buying me a drink? Is this your attempt at wooing me?”

“If you assume it is, then so it may be,” Minhyun replies, simply. The bartender returns with Jonghyun’s drink, the glass emitting a dull thud as it hits the wood. Jonghyun wraps his fingers around it, bringing it up.

“Then so it is,” he says. “Pleasure to meet you, Hwang Minhyun.”

“Likewise,” Minhyun returns. He doesn’t even need to consciously think to keep the charm in his voice and his smile, because for some reason, these kind of emotives come naturally with his conversation with Jonghyun.

Jonghyun holds his glass up. “To this lovely meeting.” He stares at Minhyun, and there’s some emotion crawling in his eyes and Minhyun can’t help but find exciting. It foreshadows that Jonghyun’s definitely got as much interest in this newfound acquaintance as much as Minhyun does.

“To perhaps more,” Minhyun responds, his voice a little sultry, and clinks his glass against Jonghyun’s. They both take sips simultaneously, their eyes never leaving each other’s gazes. When Minhyun sets his glass down, he adds, “Excuse me for a moment. I need to send a quick message.” Jonghyun watches him curiously as he slips out his phone from his pocket and shoots a text to Minki.

_Don’t come. I will email you on the matters I wish to discuss. Something important just came up._

He receives a reply no more than several seconds later.

_What? Discovered someone whose time is much more important than mine?_

Minhyun knows his secretary is just attempting to joke with his snarkiness -- he probably didn’t want to meet with Minhyun in the first place as much as Minhyun doesn’t want to meet with him now. And after all, as he slides his phone back into his pocket and returns to looking at the man sitting next to him, he figures that it’s entirely plausible that Minki’s statement is true.

* * *

They’re both mildly intoxicated as they stumble out of the bar -- Minhyun’s got a good alcohol tolerance, and he’s used to keeping himself in check when there’s that poison flowing through his veins, but for some reason, with Jonghyun’s hand gripping tightly onto his sleeve as he guides the shorter man through the door, some of that control has dissipated. “Minhyun,” Jonghyun whispers, and he snakes his fingers through a lapel on Minhyun’s suitjacket. Minhyun tilts his head down, staring directly into Jonghyun’s eyes. There’s a glimmer in them that’s a little wild, a little eager, and his face is flushed slightly pink. Minhyun almost licks his lips.

Jonghyun pulls Minhyun closer by his suitjacket. “Have you--” he begins, and his voice, with added breath and in a whisper, has become even more raspier. He smiles, tilting his head and lidding his eyes in a sly, seductive manner. “--got anything else planned tonight?” The grip he has on Minhyun’s jacket is tightened, pulling in Minhyun’s face even closer.

“No,” Minhyun hums, with a smirk. Their noses are almost touching, and the air they share is hot and clammy with the bitter-sweet smell of whiskey. A hand of his snakes up Jonghyun’s neck, digging itself into his hair. “And you don’t either, I presume?”

“Of course not,” Jonghyun immediately replies. His words are slightly wavering, almost slurred with the alcohol rushing through his blood, but there’s enough of that firmness in his voice that indicates that he’s consciously thinking. “Unless you’d present me with someone, I assume.”

“Why don’t you come with me?” Minhyun asks, his fingers crawling down to Jonghyun’s shoulder, fingerpads stroking delicately over the thin cotton of Jonghyun’s shirt. Minhyun isn’t normally the type to pull into bed upon the first meeting, but he figures, he might as well make an exception for today. After all, with the force that Jonghyun is gripping onto his jacket lapel, this could bode for an interesting night.

With Jonghyun holding onto his arm, Minhyun manages to guide him all the way through the hotel entrance and down the hall without any interruptions. When he’s digging around in a pocket for his room key, Jonghyun presses himself forward slightly onto his toes, setting his chin on Minhyun’s shoulder. His breath is startlingly hot on Minhyun’s neck when he speaks, and the hairs on Minhyun’s skin rise. “You could hurry up, you know.”

As Minhyun slots the card into the door handle, he turns his head and looks Jonghyun in the eye. They’re close enough that the scent of the alcohol on each other’s breaths is potent and bitter, but instead of it revolting Minhyun, he breathes it in and lets himself float into a deeper state of intoxication. “The longer you wait, the better it’ll be,” he whispers, with a smile, and Jonghyun purses his lips, but nonetheless keeps silent.

Minhyun’s barely managed to shut the door behind him before Jonghyun’s got a hand wrapped around his tie and is in the process of dragging him down the entryway of the room. Right before Jonghyun reaches the bed, he turns around, smiling, and then his knees hit the edge of the mattress before he falls on it back first, tugging a stumbling Minhyun atop him messily. Minhyun can barely catch himself with his palms digging into the sheets before Jonghyun crashes their lips together with all force and desperation and no caution or regard. He tastes exactly like the whisky Minhyun had ordered for him, all bitter and burning with a sweet and sly aftertaste. Minhyun finds himself running his fingers along Jonghyun’s lower abdomen, tracing the hem of his shirt as he sucks on Jonghyun’s tongue and pulls at his lips with his teeth.

Jonghyun parts their lips, knowingly smiling as he lets out a hot breath as he arches his back off of the mattress slightly and allows Minhyun to tug his shirt up to his shoulders. “You’ve got quite the nice body,” Minhyun compliments, as he watches his own hands run up and down Jonghyun’s torso.

“T-Thanks,” Jonghyun breathes out, his face slightly red from both the alcohol and the stimulation from Minhyun’s palms. He shivers from Minhyun’s touch, goosebumps rising on his skin as his chin lifts slightly and he sucks in a trembling breath.

Minhyun places his palms gently on Jonghyun’s stomach, his thumbs rubbing circles before he leans down and sucks in one of Jonghyun’s nipples through his teeth.

“O-Oh,” Jonghyun softly groans, his fingers digging into the sheets. Minhyun smiles, the imprint of his lips pressing against Jonghyun’s skin, and he flicks his tongue around the bud before grazing it with his teeth and biting softly. He lifts his lips, rubbing the nipple with his thumb. Jonghyun gasps beneath his grip, throwing his head to the side, and so Minhyun presses his mouth down once again and wetly kisses a trail across Jonghyun’s chest to the other nipple. He laps across the pink bud, eliciting another slight shiver from Jonghyun. “Your nipples are sensitive, huh?” he murmurs, lips warm against Jonghyun’s heated skin.

The slight smirk in Jonghyun’s voice is audible in his response. “Maybe,” he replies, and when Minhyun bites down, he sucks in a deep breath and adds, “Y-Yeah.”

Minhyun chuckles softly as he licks his way down Jonghyun’s stomach, fluttering kisses as he goes. He dips in his tongue and swirls it around Jonghyun’s belly button, earning himself a gasp and a pulse of Jonghyun’s stomach. When Minhyun lifts his head and holds his hands on Jonghyun’s hips, thumbs stroking circles over skin, Jonghyun tilts down his chin, staring Minhyun directly in the eye, and with lust-ridden breath, he says, “Suck me off.”

“You’re quite pushy,” Minhyun replies with a laugh, but he nonetheless complies, tucking two of his fingers beneath the waistbands of both Jonghyun’s shorts and boxers before tugging the articles of clothing down. Jonghyun sucks in an exhilarating breath as the head of his fully-hard cock catches against the cloth. His thighs tremble slightly as the rest of his erection is exposed to the air, which is startlingly chilly compared to his heated skin.

Minhyun nuzzles into the thin skin at the crook of Jonghyun’s thigh and crotch, intaking a breath before planting a feather-light kiss to the base of Jonghyun’s cock. He holds his palms down firmly on Jonghyun’s hips as he licks a stripe all the way from base to tip, pausing briefly at the head to wrap his lips around the ridge and suck off the wet of precome that’d dripped out of the slit of Jonghyun’s cock. “F-Fuck,” Jonghyun whispers, and Minhyun hums approvingly as he sinks down his lips, taking Jonghyun into his mouth as far as he can go in one swift movement.

He earns a groan from Jonghyun and the jerking up of his hips, which Minhyun stifles with his fingers digging into warm skin. “Y-Yes,” Jonghyun hisses through his teeth as Minhyun’s fingers wrap around what can’t fit in his mouth. He begins to suck and stroke simultaneously, head bobbing slightly with his movements as quiet wet noises mix with Jonghyun’s heady moans in the air. Jonghyun’s stomach convulses with his desperate breaths as Minhyun hums, the vibrations in his mouth resounding onto Jonghyun’s cock. “Yes, Minhyun, oh g--” his voice breaks as Minhyun grazes his teeth softly over skin and pulls back with a wet noise, his teeth catching on the head of Jonghyun’s cock. He sinks back down again, this time willing his gag reflex to relax, and Jonghyun’s back arches impossibly high off of the mattress as the head of his cock hits the back of Minhyun’s throat. A loud and low moan escapes his lips, and Minhyun grins as he hums once again and swallows, letting the walls of his throat clench around the cock in his mouth.

“Holy fuck,” Jonghyun groans, and by now he’s breathing in rapid pants and Minhyun has to dig his fingers forcefully into Jonghyun’s hips to keep them down. “Minhyun, _oh my god_ ,” Jonghyun whispers, as Minhyun’s head continues to bob up and down. His fingers curl and uncurl erratically into the sheet, and a pretty sheen of sweat has glazed over his temples, neck, and chest. Soon, the rolling of his hips is nearing difficult for Minhyun to control. Jonghyun’s thighs are shaking violently, his head thrashing back and forth, chest rising and falling hastily with his shallow breaths, and Minhyun pulls his mouth off of Jonghyun's cock with a wet _pop!_ after he’s decided that Jonghyun’s probably had enough and _definitely_ should not come this early. There’s a thick string of spit connecting his lips and the head of Jonghyun’s cock, and Minhyun gives one long kiss to the head to break the connection.

“Ugh,” Jonghyun groans softly, trying to slow down his breathing as Minhyun rises up and kisses him, threading a hand through his hair.

“Not gonna let you come too early,” Minhyun croons, “we haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.” Jonghyun laughs into the kiss, reaching up with his hands and wrapping his arms around Minhyun’s neck.

“But first,” he whispers teasingly, once they’ve pulled apart. “I can’t be the only one naked, right?” He slides down a hand and tugs at the lapel of Minhyun's suitjacket. “Although, if you’d keep the tie on, that’d be fantastic.”

Minhyun huffs. “Alright,” he complies, and reaches down to unbutton his jacket. “Got a uniform fetish, huh?”

“Mmm, not really,” Jonghyun hums lazily, as he watches Minhyun toss the jacket off to the side. “Or maybe, I don’t know. But wouldn’t the tie be something lovely to grab onto while I ride you?”

“Valid point,” Minhyun replies. He’s undoing the buttons on his dress shirt as Jonghyun sits up and slides his fingers--they’re slim and long, Minhyun notices; wouldn’t they look fantastic pressing past their owner’s rim?--around the buckle of his belt. Jonghyun manages to undo the buckle with ease even though his fingers are shaking, and Minhyun loosens his tie and shrugs off his dress shirt as Jonghyun unzips his slacks and tugs them down.

“If I’ve got a nice body, then you could be a god,” Jonghyun murmurs with a laugh, his palms warm as they press against Minhyun’s stomach. “All this hidden beneath a suit? How wasteful.”

Minhyun smirks. “Surprised, aren’t you?” he returns, but nonetheless pushes Jonghyun down as he climbs back onto the mattress, having stepped out of his slacks, tie dangling from his neck.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Jonghyun whispers against Minhyun’s lips. He raises his own hips, grinding up against the tent in front of Minhyun’s boxers, and Minhyun lets out a soft hiss at the stimulation. Jonghyun smiles and begins to palm him through the thin cotton, his hand pressing against the wet patch that’d formed against the cloth. Minhyun’s breath stutters as he groans into Jonghyun’s mouth, their tongues rubbing against each other in time with Jonghyun’s movements.

Minhyun suddenly grabs his wrist, stilling his hand. “You have lube and a condom?” he asks.

“Mmm, yeah,” Jonghyun hums. Minhyun sits back on his haunches as Jonghyun rolls over and off the bed, finding his shorts on the floor and digging around in a pocket for his wallet. Minhyun admires the view of Jonghyun’s ass as the latter bends over. He makes mental note to grab onto it sometime later.

When Jonghyun returns, he tosses the packets to Minhyun, although Minhyun hands him back the lube.

“What?” Jonghyun asks, his lips quirking up, “Can’t finger me yourself?”

“Nah,” Minhyun replies, before he leans forward and whispers into Jonghyun’s ear, “why don’t you let me watch you open yourself up for me, hmm?”

Jonghyun visibly shivers, the hair on the back of his neck rising. “Sure,” he returns, with a shaky laugh, and Minhyun sits back expectantly.

Bringing the packet up to his teeth, Jonghyun tears it open, pouring some of its contents into a palm before coating three of his fingers. He gets on his hands and knees, ass facing Minhyun, before slowly reaching around with his slicked hand, sliding it down his crack, and carefully slipping in an index finger. “O-Oh,” he whines, his head falling forward at the first penetration. Once his finger is engulfed to the knuckle, he pulls it out and presses it back into himself, hips rocking slightly as he does so. One is easy for him, however, and soon he’s pressing the pad of his middle finger as well. But before he slips it in, Minhyun crawls forward, placing a palm on either of Jonghyun’s ass cheeks and spreading them, watching Jonghyun’s hole suck in his second finger. The puckered skin is darker than the rest of his body, and Jonghyun lets out an exaggerated moan, because he knows Minhyun is watching.

It works, though, and as Minhyun sees Jonghyun’s two fingers push in and out of himself, his hole flexing around the slight stretch, Minhyun imagines Jonghyun taking in his cock just as eagerly as he is his fingers. He nearly loses it at that moment, his own fingers twitching with the urge to press them in alongside Jonghyun’s and reduce him to even more of a garbled mess, but he resists the urge and forces himself to simply watch as Jonghyun begins to scissor.

His moans become even louder when he presses a third finger inside of himself. His free hand is digging harshly into the sheets, and his back quivers uncontrollably as he begins to fuck himself on three, the movement of his hips slightly less controlled. Minhyun thinks Jonghyun’s rim stretches beautifully around the girth of three fingers, and he licks his lips in anticipation to see how it might stretch around the girth of his dick.

“O-Okay,” Jonghyun murmurs, shakily, several thrusts later, slipping his fingers out of himself, and Minhyun sits back. He shrugs off his boxers and tears open the condom packet before rolling the latex onto his own cock. When he scoots up to Jonghyun again, Jonghyun’s now sitting up and facing him.

“Lay down,” Jonghyun says, crawling forward and pushing Minhyun down with a hand on Minhyun’s chest.

“Really want to ride me, huh?” Minhyun teases, and Jonghyun licks his lips. “Your back to me.”

“Why? So you can’t see my face?” Jonghyun retorts jokingly.

“No,” Minhyun hums with a smile, “I just want to see your pretty little hole take my cock, that’s all.”

Jonghyun hisses at his words. “O-Okay,” he complies, breathily. He grabs the packet of lube and pours the remaining liquid into his hand, slicking up Minhyun's cock before he crawls forward, palms placed on Minhyun’s thighs and turning around and scooting slightly backwards, lifting his hips. One of Minhyun’s hands comes to hold onto his hip, guiding him as the other wraps around his own cock, aligning the head to Jonghyun’s entrance. Jonghyun whines softly at the touch, but his voice becomes drawn out and louder when he finally allows himself to sink down.

“Oh god,” Minhyun groans, wincing slightly and taking in a sharp breath as he watches Jonghyun’s rim stretch to accommodate his cock--it most definitely is quite a sight to see--and as he feels his dick become engulfed in Jonghyun’s enticingly tight heat.

When Jonghyun’s fully seated, Minhyun’s fingers flex impatiently around Jonghyun’s hipbones as a result of his resistance against the urge to immediately start thrusting. Jonghyun wriggles around slightly in his grip, trying to make himself comfortable. A moment later, he glances over his shoulder, sweat-laden strands of black hair hanging over his forehead, eyes glazed over in lust, cheeks flushed a brilliant pink--Minhyun is _really_ about to lose his control now--and breathily says, “I’m going to start moving.”

He rises up slowly, his thighs trembling slightly, and drops back down at the same pace. Minhyun throws his head up and lets out a low moan, his fingernails digging crescents into Jonghyun’s hips. Jonghyun’s head falls as he begins to gradually build a faster pace, the skin on his ass hitting Minhyun’s crotch in a filthy smacking sound with each hard drop. Minhyun easily begins to thrust his hips up to meet Jonghyun’s movements. On a particular thrust, he hits something inside Jonghyun that makes the latter nearly fall forward, his stomach convulsing, only being able to stay upright with his hands digging into Minhyun’s legs.

With a grunt, Minhyun shifts position slightly, and on the succeeding thrust he hits that spot again, a garbled mess of moans slipping out of Jonghyun’s lips as his ass meets Minhyun’s hips. “Yes--” he cries, “-- _there_!”

With his hands gripping so tightly onto Jonghyun that he’s sure there might be bruises later, Minhyun continues to thrust up in time with Jonghyun’s drops, and soon both of their movements are becoming uncontrollable and fractious. Jonghyun’s thighs are now struggling to hold himself up. His legs tremble violently, and without the support of Minhyun’s hands, he would’ve fallen long ago.

Minhyun hisses as Jonghyun’s walls clench around his cock. Jonghyun whines, his voice raspy and shrill. “F-Fuck--” he groans, and now his shoulders are shaking with the effort to keep himself upright. “I’m going to come, I’m--” He squeezes his eyes painfully shut as the next thrust of Minhyun’s cock against his sensitive spot sends stars flying through his vision, and his body trembles as he comes, spurts of white from his cock coating his lower abdomen, Minhyun’s legs, and the sheets below.

As Jonghyun rides out on his orgasm, his walls clench unbearably tightly around Minhyun’s dick. The sensation is overwhelming, and just as Jonghyun is beginning to recover, Minhyun comes with his fingers digging violently into Jonghyun’s hips to the point where it’s painful. He groans, throwing his head to the side, filling up the condom with one last thrust, before his hips stutter and he relaxes, chest rising up and down hastily as his breaths calm.

“Oh fuck,” Jonghyun whispers, as he lifts himself off of Minhyun’s cock several seconds later. He nearly collapses in his attempt to crawl over and lay down at Minhyun’s side.

“That was fucking great,” Minhyun hums, with a grin, and Jonghyun eagerly agrees. Minhyun leans forward, sliding a hand under Jonghyun’s chin and tilting his face up for a kiss that’s soft and quiet. He rolls away the next moment, climbing off of the bed before pulling the condom off of himself and tying it. When he returns after having thrown it away and collapses back on the bed next to Jonghyun, Jonghyun asks, “So, what now?”

“What do you mean?” Minhyun responds, turning his head.

“Is Mr. Businessman going to throw me out after having probably the best sex of his life?” Jonghyun asks, with a small smile. When Minhyun raises an eyebrow, he adds, “You probably have a lot of suitors, but you have to admit the sex was great.”

Minhyun scoffs. “No, I won’t throw you out, and no, I don’t have any suitors. But yes, the sex was great.”

Jonghyun grins. “Awesome,” he replies, “because my ass is sore and I’m tired, so I was thinking I’d just pass out here.”

Minhyun turns his head briefly and glances out the window. Sure enough, the sky is dark, and the city lights have all flickered on, painting a rainbow of glimmers across the blue-black canvas. “Go ahead,” he says, smiling at Jonghyun.

Jonghyun laughs softly. He painstakingly scoots forward, planting a kiss on the tip of Minhyun’s nose before whispering, “Thanks.”

Something in Minhyun’s heart warms at the gesture. Sure, he’s had plenty of one night stands, especially with those that’d share his bed for a night or some and then up and leave in the morning. But never had they even bothered to display any actions of affection towards him -- it was simply sex for pleasure, and that was it.

He slips out of bed silently, and he returns with a towel soaked in warm water. Jonghyun hums contentedly as Minhyun wipes his body. “You’re pretty nice, Mr. Businessman Hwang Minhyun,” he murmurs with a little smile, and Minhyun laughs softly. When he slides back into bed, Jonghyun leans his forehead against the base of his neck and falls asleep easily.

* * *

He easily wakes up the next morning with Jonghyun nuzzling into the crook of his neck. When he shifts position, Jonghyun yawns, his hair tickling Minhyun’s chin, and he blearily opens his eyes.

“Good morning, Mr. Hwang Minhyun,” he greets, with a laughing smile.

Minhyun inwardly winces. “You needn’t call me that,” he says, lowly, “my secretary does, and that’s--”

“A little weird?” Jonghyun offers.

“Well, besides that, my secretary is also the most despicable man on Earth,” Minhyun mutters, with a sigh.

Jonghyun laughs at his statement. He reaches up a hand and runs it through Minhyun’s hair, patting down the stray strands at the top of his head. “Alrighty then, Minhyun. Anyways, good morning.”

Minhyun stares at him a little oddly, remaining silent.

Jonghyun raises a suspicious eyebrow. “Fine, fine, I get it,” he says with a laugh, “I’ll get out of your way.” He rolls over to the edge of the bed.

“Wait-- what?” Minhyun finally speaks.

“Don’t you want me out now?” Jonghyun hums, standing up, “I know I’ve kind of overstayed.”

“No-- uhhh….” Minhyun begins. It’s abnormal for him to be this hesitant, but it’s morning, and coupled with Jonghyun’s alarmingly understanding smile, needless to say he’s thrown off guard. “Stay for longer.” He scoots over and reaches out, grabbing onto Jonghyun’s arm and tugging gently.

Jonghyun cracks a grin at him. “Oh really?” he asks, with a smirk, allowing himself to fall onto the bed. But the next moment, he presses Minhyun down, climbing onto his waist and seating himself comfortably. He leans down until his lips are just a hair’s breadth away from grazing against Minhyun’s skin. “You really want me to?”

“Yes, of course,” Minhyun replies, donning his own teasing smile. “I’ll even buy you breakfast if you want.”

“Sounds like an offer I can’t resist,” Jonghyun hums, “but first, let’s do something else, okay?”

Minhyun chuckles. “You didn’t even need to ask,” he says, right before his and Jonghyun’s lips meet.

Morning sex is lovely, Minhyun thinks. It’s much better than any source of caffeine. He pulls Jonghyun into the shower with him afterwards--he actually insists that they _must_ do some cleaning, not just soap-slicked handjobs and moist blowjobs (but oh gosh, does Jonghyun look so _pretty_ with his eyelashes clumped wetly together as he blinks the water away from his eyes and sinks his lips down on Minhyun’s cock)--and once they’ve both stepped out, Minhyun tosses him something from the things he’s got hanging on the dark oak hangers in his temporary closet.

“Real silk and it’s hanging in the closet?” Jonghyun asks, with an eyebrow raised, as he slips the shirt over his head, shaking his wet hair when the article of clothing settles on his shoulders. It’s obviously large for him--the sleeves reach his fingertips--but Minhyun just thinks it makes him look even more enticing. “You don’t happen to live in this hotel, do you?”

Minhyun chuckles. “No,” he responds, “just here for some business, that’s all. What about you?” The crimson red of the silk shirt flutters against Jonghyun’s skin. Minhyun thinks both the color and the fit, even being a little baggy, looks fantastic on Jonghyun -- clearly, the man was made to wear expensive and tailored garments. In the beginning, Minhyun had absolutely no clue as to Jonghyun’s background, but he’d assumed that the latter came from nothing less than a semi-lavish life. He seemed to know one of the guests at the party, and there’s no way that his type of beauty--something that’s most definitely meant to be resting on plush velvet cushions and cradled in silken palms--would be of a paltry background. From surface essence, he’d caught Minhyun’s eye with an aura vaguely like Jieqiong’s, and now that Minhyun’s gotten to know Jonghyun better, he’s noticed that both him and Jieqiong have a shrewd glimmer in their eyes, indicative of a wealthy character. The fact that Jonghyun is so able to replicate Jieqiong’s ambience, although in a subtle and eluding manner, makes Minhyun even more excited to discover what kind of grand and ritzy lifestyle he has. It makes Jonghyun all the more _attractive._

And no, Minhyun doesn’t think he’s elitist. He just wants his flings to possess at least some class and reputation like him -- after all, he’s one of the richest and most respected men in Korea. And if he’s going to have someone by his side for more than just a few nights, they’d have to exude the same aura of elegance, wealth, and power just like him. He’s never had a problem with picking out potential lovers like this -- he prides himself on his honed and selective taste in people; there’s absolutely no way his senses would fail him.

“Mmm, vacation,” Jonghyun hums. He smooths down the shirt with his palms. Minhyun raises both his eyebrows.

“How long’re you staying here?”

“For another two and a half weeks.”

“Hmm.” Minhyun’s eyebrows fall. Jonghyun’s most definitely got money -- who would be able to afford a such a long stay at one of Hawaii’s most expensive resorts? “I’ve only got a week left.”

Jonghyun grins up at him. “Then looks like we’ll have a lot of fun this whole week, won’t we?” He steps into the entryway, although Minhyun remains still, staring at his back. Jonghyun glances over his shoulder. “Unless you’ve got a lot of things to do, Mr. Businessman Minhyun?”

“A few,” Minhyun replies nonchalantly, adjusting the cuff of one of his sleeves. “But it’s not enough to prevent me from doing what I want.”

“Promising.” Jonghyun laughs softly as Minhyun walks up to him. “Where would you like to go for breakfast, Minhyun?”

“Anywhere,” Minhyun murmurs, with a casual wave of his hand, “you choose.”

“Now, wouldn’t that be rude?” Jonghyun hums, “After all, you’re paying, aren’t you? You should choose.”

“Really, I insist,” Minhyun replies, placing a hand on Jonghyun’s bicep. Jonghyun glances at it for a moment before his eyes flit back up to Minhyun’s face, a coy smile breaking out on his lips. “So courteous of you. Only known me for less than a day and you’re already spoiling me rotten. Do you do this to everyone that visits your bed?”

“No.” Minhyun blinks. He really doesn’t. But there’s something alluring about Jonghyun that makes the solemn businessman part of his heart _want_ to care. He hasn’t gotten that feeling in quite some time, but he only knows it comes to him when there’s something about a specific person that has managed to fully capture his interest -- it’s a terribly rare occurrence.

“Oh, so this is your intricate way of saying I’m special, huh?” Jonghyun teases.

Minhyun sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. He places pressure on Jonghyun’s shoulder. “We should go,” he reminds, “are you not hungry?”

“Hmmm, alright,” Jonghyun hums, turning away. He slides his hand onto the handle of the door. “But really, Minhyun, if you have any preference of where you want to eat, please tell me. I don’t mind.”

Minhyun sighs again. “I’ll see when we get down to the boardwalk,” he says, as he slips out of his room right behind Jonghyun.

* * *

You see, the lovely thing about having someone here you’re able to act with less restraint around that’s _not_ your secretary, is that you’ve got so many more opportunities for unprofessionalism -- the kind you’d keep hidden behind doors, behind smiles, behind all that drapery and flash. Jonghyun doesn’t seem to mind Minhyun’s penchant for strong alcoholic drinks, unlike Minki, who loves his cocktails with the olives and beach umbrellas. In fact, Jonghyun takes everything in stride. Minhyun watches a dribble of Stoli slip out of the corner of Jonghyun’s mouth as he downs a shot, and he reaches out a finger to swipe the liquid back up to Jonghyun’s lips. This proves for much more entertainment than calmly sipping on a glass of El Dorado while discussing meeting plans with Minki, who watches him carefully over the edge of his own glass.

And then, after they’re done, Jonghyun will flutter mildly intoxicated kisses up the span of Minhyun’s neck and cheek as Minhyun pulls him back to his hotel room. Jonghyun spends so much time with his head on Minhyun’s chest, lazily tracing patterns on Minhyun’s bicep, that they might as well share a room; but then Jonghyun says that Minhyun’s there for business, and that Jonghyun shouldn’t intrude -- it just reminds Minhyun of how temporary and volatile this relationship is, and the next time he presses Jonghyun against the bedsheets he cradles his cheek in his palm as he kisses him.

Minki’s noticed his change in demeanor, and he asks Minhyun if Jieqiong actually took him up on that offer for dinner (and more), but Minhyun just raises his eyebrows, downs the rest of his glass, and proceeds to wave the bartender over for another drink.

“You’ve finally found someone to replace me for company, huh?” Minki hums nonchalantly as he flips over a paper in the packet he’s holding. He’d suddenly switched from talking about potential venues to Minhyun’s personal business. Any normal person would be caught off-guard, but Minhyun’s so used to Minki’s beady little remarks and sly statements with double meanings that he’s not at all fazed.

“Did you think it was that difficult for me?” Minhyun replies.

“Not really,” Minki murmurs, flipping another page. Minhyun sighs -- his secretary didn’t even read the text, now did he? “Just don’t get too distracted.” Minhyun’s about to scoff -- he’s quite fully aware that business comes first, and Minki’s probably about to remind him that they’ve got a conference tonight, but the next thing that comes out of his secretary’s mouth makes him laugh. “Jaehwan’s still crying back at the office, so don’t slack off.”

“Lovely,” Minhyun comments through his laughter. “I’m quite excited to get back,” he sarcastically adds.

Minki rolls his eyes. “I kind of am,” he mutters, “the Hawaiian humidity doesn’t do my hair any favors.” He exaggeratedly raises a hand and pats his perfectly combed blonde locks.

Minhyun sighs. He sets his glass back down on the counter and stands up. “I’ll see you later,” he says, “I’ve got a meeting with someone in a bit. Please, Minki, _actually_ read the files I’ve given you.”

Minki glosses over his request. “Not paying my tab?” he asks, pouting.

Minhyun smirks. “I pay you enough,” he chides, “you can afford it.” He promptly turns on his heel, tucking his hands in his pockets, and walks away from Minki, who had immediately waves over the barman, and Minhyun is willing to bet money that he’s now attempting to flirt his way out of the bill.

* * *

On a Sunday, as Jonghyun’s shrugging on a shirt, Minhyun quietly watches him from the bed, admiring how the sunlight reflects off of the high points of his back that’re created as his arms shift and flex with his movements.

“You know,” Minhyun begins.

Jonghyun looks over his shoulder curiously. “What?”

“My flight’s tomorrow morning,” Minhyun says, quietly, his eyes flickering up and down Jonghyun’s form.

Jonghyun smiles softly. “You’ve got my phone number,” he says. “Don’t look so distraught, Minhyun.”

“I’m not--” Minhyun sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “Whatever.” He turns his head, staring at the pile of blankets next to him.

“You’re in Seoul. I’m in Seoul. We’ll meet up once I’m back, yeah?” Jonghyun murmurs.

“Yes, of course,” Minhyun immediately replies, and then he silently adds, _As long as Jaehwan doesn’t hold onto my leg and cry, then that’s a problem._

There’s a dip in the mattress as Jonghyun climbs back atop it. He scoots over to where Minhyun’s lying, placing a hand on the latter’s chest as he leans down and kisses him. “Don’t ghost me, alright?” he whispers, laughing, against Minhyun’s lips.

Minhyun’s lips curl up in a wry smile. “Don’t think I will,” he replies, “the sex is too great.”

Jonghyun pouts teasingly. “That’s all I am to you? Sex? I’m disappointed. I thought we’d forged a real bond over this past week.”

Minhyun groans, throwing a palm over his face. “Don’t joke with me like that, Jonghyun. You know what I mean.” There’s a hand grabbing at his wrist the next moment, pulling his palm off of his face, and his vision is filled with Jonghyun’s laughing expression.

“Yeah, I got you,” Jonghyun chuckles. He rolls over and slides off of the bed. “Are you going to lay there the whole day? Don’t you have things to do? Important businessman things?”

Minhyun rolls his eyes. “Secretary can take care of some of it,” he grumbles, “for now, let me relax.” There’s still the bottle of champagne from last night sitting on the nightstand, and he reaches out to grab it, only for Jonghyun to pull it away from his outstretched grasp.

“Alcohol at eleven in the morning?” Jonghyun tsks. “Irresponsible.”

“Might as well need alcohol,” Minhyun mutters, falling back on the bed with a soft _fwump,_ “prepare me for the long ass flight back with my secretary gnawing at my ear.”

“He can’t be that bad,” Jonghyun chuckles, walking over and setting the bottle of champagne down on the TV stand -- if Minhyun’s going to drink, then he’s most definitely going to have to get up and get the bottle himself.

“You’ll see,” Minhyun murmurs, rolling over and burying his face into a pillow.

“Oh, this is exciting,” Jonghyun hums, walking over to the bathroom. Minhyun hears the sink turn on. “I feel like I’m going to be introduced to your family.” Minhyun laughs into his pillow, the sounds of Jonghyun moving about in the background creating a comfortable noise that fades into a buzz in the back of his head. For the barest second, he thinks he could become used to hearing this kind of calming ruckus in the morning. _It might be too soon to think about that,_ he mentally tells himself, but he nonetheless smiles as he closes his eyes and falls back asleep.


	2. II

Minhyun and Minki’s return is relatively uneventful. They step back into the office, and Jaehwan comes running up to them wailing about how Park Gyuri is trying to pressure him into a broadcasting media contract and he doesn’t know what to do. Minhyun just sighs, resists the urge to put his hand on Jaehwan’s face and push him away, and scolds his VP for being too whipped for pretty women and that he’s _really not going to get anywhere if he can’t even stand his ground in business negotiations._

He counts down the days in the two weeks until Jonghyun would arrive back in Seoul. They communicate casually until then -- Minhyun’s schedule keeps him distracted for most of the day, but on the (not so rare) occasion that he lazily dumps a pile of paperwork onto Minki’s desk, he’ll recline back in chair and spin in a circle before he turns over his phone on his desk and reads Jonghyun’s newest message. Now, sexting is so _not_ Minhyun’s thing -- he’s also kind of a prude in the fact that he believes intimacy should only be saved for physical meetings. Not to mention that he’s inwardly afraid of nudes being leaked onto the internet (not that he couldn’t pay people to shut up about them, but then again, part of being a successful businessman is having _some_ sense of frugality). However, when you’ve got photos of Jonghyun lounging on the poolside with his entire torso on display and his swim trunks hanging _deliciously_ low, how do you not lick your lips and wish for more?

Minhyun also asked who in the world took them (or more like, he’s implying who _else_ in the world would have gotten to see Jonghyun _like that_ ) as he doesn’t remember Jonghyun mentioning vacationing with a friend. Jonghyun simply told him that he was here with _Yewon_ \-- Minhyun felt a spark of annoyance. Who’s this _Yewon_ girl? Jonghyun then proceeded to send a selfie of himself and some cute girl with a round face and a very bright and happy smile. Totally not Minhyun’s type, and he even briefly wondered _what the hell_ she’d be doing with Jonghyun, because if Minhyun’s Jonghyun’s type, then where in the world does Yewon fit on that image?

Well, that _was_ Minhyun’s thoughts until Jonghyun added that Yewon was his little sister that arrived a few days after Minhyun left, and then Minhyun proceeded to immediately feel disgusted for letting himself get carried away too easily -- boy, he’s never felt that kind of immature jealousy and possessiveness in a damn _long_ time.

Now, Minhyun’s not gonna unbuckle his pants in his office--the office sex is saved for those flings he _really_ likes--but it’s definitely not like he hasn’t _considered_ it. He just stares out the window, contemplating what he’s going to do and how he’s going to reply, until Minki knocks on his door and tells him he should get back to work. That’s also one reason why Minhyun doesn’t really like his secretary -- Minki must have some sort of otherworldly sense about what Minhyun’s up to and thinking about, and it’s honestly quite creepy (but then again Minhyun is also secretly appreciative, even though he won’t admit it, because without Minki, he’d have a much more difficult time getting work done).

The days pass a little more efficiently than Minhyun had assumed they would. He secures the contract deal he had been discussing with Wu Yifan, and with his connections in China, Minhyun gets to see Jieqiong once again when Yifan invites them all for a dinner party at his home. As expected, there’s no man holding onto Jieqiong’s arm. She regards Minhyun, gives him a polite bow. “You seem disinterested. Quite polarizing from last time,” she notes, halfway through the night, a champagne flute held up to her lips, and what can Minhyun do but shrug? It’s the night before Jonghyun’s flight will land, and Minhyun gives Jieqiong a winced smile, because he’s trying to resist the power to smile more than he normally does.

Jieqiong, being a lovely and observant individual, _laughs_ at Minhyun and walks away, the sequins on the train of her dress trailing behind her and sparkling from the gold fluorescent bulbs up ahead. Minhyun is once again reminded of how shrewd Jieqiong is both inside and out -- a kind of elegance and wealth she exudes easily, effortlessly, able to be recognized even from just a first meeting, and he pauses for a moment and thinks that he’s unsure of what to believe. Sure, he looks for someone to at least be at a wavering level near his in terms of wealth, power, and intelligence, but would he want someone who is _higher_ than him in that aspect?

The night passes relatively uneventfully with the exception of someone tripping a waiter and spilling drinks all over themselves. Minhyun collects a few business cards, and Minki collects a few numbers written on expensive napkins (and a few on business cards too, mind you, he _does_ take his job seriously). Jaehwan arrives later in the night after closing things at the office, and Park Gyuri wanders up to him yet again to pressure him into signing that deal--Minhyun admires her drive, and he mentally applauds her for helping build his VP a backbone--although Jaehwan just laughed awkwardly and shuffled away, drowning his nose and mouth in a champagne flute.

Minhyun returns home bone-tired, and he mentally prepares himself for the next day. He’d almost offered to pick Jonghyun up from the airport, although he realized he has a meeting in the exact same time slot -- whatever, he and Jonghyun will just find a way to meet up later in the week. Fair enough.

* * *

You see, the thing is, Minhyun expected Jonghyun to be some business executive like him. After all, who would 1. _Look_ so much like he belonged amongst the wealthy, and 2. Be able to afford a three weeks’ stay at one of Hawaii’s most expensive resorts? Or, maybe Jonghyun might’ve been the son of some wealthy politician and would be able to spend the majority of his life pandering off of his family having received a position of high altitude in some elite school and live a life of relaxed luxury. Minhyun wouldn’t mind that at all; he’d enjoy having someone to sit around his office with him -- someone who knew something about business but would seem completely unassuming to others, there to sit nicely and prettily atop Minhyun’s good oak desk, who he will be able to enjoy both physically and intellectually.

This is probably the main reason why he can’t exactly wrap his mind around how the first time he sees Jonghyun when he’s back in Seoul didn’t exactly happen at the airport or at someone’s home and nor in a club, restaurant, or cafe -- really, it was probably the place Minhyun _least_ expected it.

Minhyun really never visits the lower departments of his agency--there’s a reason he’s got department heads and supervisors and Jaehwan--it’s so the CEO himself doesn’t have to bother, and as long as the numbers in the record books look good and match up, then he’s satisfied. But on a rare day that Minki convinces him to come down just to _take a look,_ because somehow Jaehwan’s out sick and so is the director of finance, so that means he and Minki have to take the trek down to the third floor of the building and make sure no one’s been scraping off the top layer of the quarter’s earnings for themselves or been trying to pass off a monkey as an ape when everyone secretly knows it’s a gorilla. Of course, Minhyun’d much rather sit at his desk and slough over the reports the department would generate for him (he will most definitely have to do some form of that later, he knows), but it’s also a matter of making sure nothing shady is going on, and that the finance department is fully prepared for a budget renewal for the upcoming quarter.

So when he steps out of the elevator and walks into the main office with Minki trailing behind him, he really doesn’t expect to see the name _Kim Jonghyun_ stamped in gold lettering across the glass pane of a wooden door sitting next to a printer as he passes by en route to the assistant director’s office. It’s less of a shock, but definitely still a shock, to also see the words _Associate Director_ written beneath Jonghyun’s name.

Minhyun frowns, and he stutters in his step. Minki stares at him curiously. “What’re you looking at?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Minhyun immediately replies, whipping around his head and continuing to walk in a pointed manner.

But of course, Minki is Minki, and he knows Minhyun just as well as Minhyun knows himself, and so he secretly decides that he’ll just pester Minhyun about his strange behavior later -- for now, they’ve got to sit in for a discussion with Mr. Kim Junmyeon, a plucky little man who looks like he knows nothing--Minhyun probably _assumes_ he knows nothing--while in reality, he’s probably smarter than the elitist CEO himself.

An hour and a half later, they step out of Mr. Kim’s office, and Minhyun feels like he wants vodka. His face certainly _says_ he wants vodka, but that scowl is quickly replaced by a clean grin when an employee walks by. Minki sniffs, rolling his eyes, and Minhyun’s gaze flickers to him, glaring with all his might even through his disgustingly handsome smile.

Well, much to Minki’s excitement, joy, and fascination, when they’re about approach the finance department’s office's front door, a man walks through the door before them. He’s rolling down his suit sleeves, having returned from the bathroom, and when he lifts his head after patting them down, he and Minhyun connect gazes.

This is where Minki becomes overjoyed. He’s practically crying tears of elation at this point.

Minhyun all of a sudden looks so fucking _uncomfortable_ \-- it’s like he’s just seen the devil. And, well, for that other guy, he looks surprised as well, just not shocked enough that he appears as if he’s about half a second away from a stroke.

“Oh,” the guy goes, “Minhyun, is that you?”

Minhyun remains frozen, silent, unrelenting. Minki cheerily butts in, poking his head around Minhyun’s shoulder. “Yup, this is CEO Hwang Minhyun!” he chirps.

“ _CEO_?!” the guy exclaims, his fingers curling over his lips in surprise. “O-Oh gosh, where are my manners--” he immediately dips into a bow.

“Oh, no, you needn’t,” Minki quickly hums, waving a hand in front of his face, “we were just leaving--” If this one man was able to make the invincible Hwang Minhyun freeze in his tracks, then Minki had better befriend him and find out _why._ “--Mr…”

“Kim Jonghyun,” Jonghyun hastily fills in, “Associate director of finance.”

“Lovely to make your acquaintance,” Minki quips. The corners of his lips are now up quite high--maybe they’d even touch his eyes--which gives him the appearance of a conniving cat. “I’m Choi Minki, secretary to the CEO.” He holds out a hand, and Jonghyun shakes it carefully. “Of course, you already know this is CEO Hwang Minhyun right here.”

“Yes,” Jonghyun replies. He now no longer looks at Minhyun with some sort of anxiety, but instead there’s something else in his gaze -- _warmth,_ Minki realizes. It clicks in his mind, the light bulb above his head flickering on with a _ding!_ \-- has the associate director of finance had some sort of previous relations with the CEO?

“Minhyun,” Minki coos, soothingly, placing a palm on Minhyun’s elbow, “won’t you shake Mr. Kim Jonghyun’s hand?”

“O-Oh, of course,” Minhyun replies hastily, nodding his head. Minki sees the bob of his Adam’s apple: nervous swallowing. _Amazing._ Minhyun shakes Jonghyun’s hand with his classic firm and greeting grip, but Minki can see right through that. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Kim.”

“Oh, but haven’t we already met?” Jonghyun says, completely casually. If Minki hadn’t honed and hardened his self-control over all these years working for Minhyun, he might’ve spit right at this moment. “In H--”

“My secretary and I must take our leave,” Minhyun interrupts, sternly. His tone is a little cold, and Jonghyun’s right foot shifts back just slightly -- he’s clearly taken aback by Minhyun’s sudden change of demeanor. Minki, to some degree, is as well, but he’d already assessed this reaction as one of the paths Minhyun could’ve chosen in order to deal with the situation. “It was a pleasure to _meet_ you, Kim Jonghyun.” And without another word, he brushes past Jonghyun, opening the door for himself and stepping out.

Minki glances at Jonghyun, who still looks as surprised as ever, and shrugs. He quickly slips a hand into the breast of his suit jacket, extracting a card and handing it to Jonghyun. “If you ever need anything, like if you ever want to know more about Minhyun,” he slyly offers, “here is my contact information.”

Jonghyun takes it immediately, holding the card with both of his hands. Minki gives him a cheery wave and an elated “Bye!”, which Jonghyun returns just mildly hesitantly.

Out in the hall, Minhyun grits his teeth as he stares over his shoulder at Minki skipping up to him. “What were you doing? Took you long enough.”

“Nothing,” Minki replies easily, “let’s go, Mr. CEO Hwang Minhyun.”

* * *

_Are you up to meet tomorrow evening?_

Minhyun sets his phone face-down on his desk. The glow from the screen fades out within another minute of his staring. He sighs, turning his head to look out the windows of his penthouse. _God,_ what was he thinking? Well, obviously, it wasn’t with his brain, but rather his dick -- the CEO fucking the _associate director of finance?_ If Minhyun was going to sleep with an employee, wouldn’t it make more sense for it to be with his secretary or personal assistant? _Oh god,_ he thinks, grimacing, he doesn’t even want to _look_ at Minki’s face on a regular basis, how in the world would he fare looking at Minki’s _dick?_

He quickly brushes the thought away. That’s not the main subject here, anyways. He painstakingly flips his phone over, turning on the screen and debating if he should reply to Jonghyun or not.

Well, might as well. Just a simple “no” would suffice, wouldn’t it? _No,_ he types before pressing the send button. His texting window tells him that Jonghyun’s immediately seen the message.

_Okay. What about this weekend?_

Minhyun immediately flips over his phone. He can’t deal with Jonghyun at the moment, and so what does he do?

He pours himself some vodka. He’s needed this long ago. As he drinks, one hand holding his glass and another holding the bottle of alcohol by the neck--he pours as he goes--he paces around his penthouse, surveying the area. There’s his living room with its three couches, flatscreen, hand-woven throw he’d picked up on his trip to Iceland, and transparent glass coffee table. Kitchen: state of the art appliances and real ivory countertops. Well, it’s not like he’s ever in here except to make coffee in the morning, for his cook, Youngmin, makes all his meals. Bedroom: Four-poster bed with a scarlet canopy, a real oak dresser, full-body mirror, and another flatscreen. Office: a bookshelf, a desk built in the shape of a U with his computer sitting atop the dark wood.

Minhyun paces out of his office, and he somehow finds himself in the foyer, standing in the middle of it, the wood floor beneath his feet cold even though he’s wearing socks.

There’s nothing but his door ahead of him. The neck of the bottle of vodka is warm in his hand, and his glass is empty. If he were to shake the bottle, he’d notice that it were empty as well. But instead, he just stares straight ahead of himself, before stepping over to the table off to the side of the foyer. There’s already a silver tray sitting atop it, a lace doily covering one half. Various small bottles of alcohol of a range of fills are grouped together, and Minhyun sets down his glass and his bottle of vodka on the empty portion of the tray. The glass against metal clinks, and the sound echoes throughout the empty hall. Minhyun pauses his movements, staring at the doorway once again, as if he were waiting for the sound to open the door and walk out, or maybe for it to walk _in._

He takes another round around his home, this time without the glass and bottle -- he’s hardly stable enough to walk in a straight line, and he almost slips once or twice on the waxed wood flooring. The thuds his socked feet make while he catches his balance echo throughout the area just like the clinking of silver against glass did.

For once in Minhyun’s life, he’s noticed how blaringly obvious every single noise he makes in his home is. They cause his ears to throb, and his head hurts. When he sinks down onto his couch and stares at the empty one right across the table from him, he realizes that he hasn’t seen those black leather cushions filled for a very long time.

* * *

“So,” Minki begins, setting down his champagne flute and uncrossing his legs. He leans forward, propping up an elbow and gesturing at Jonghyun. “Hawaii.”

“Yeah, Hawaii,” Jonghyun echoes, taking a sip out of his own glass. Minki’s eyes flit down to it. Don Julio’s with a lime -- could definitely do better. Shouldn’t Minhyun teach him?

“That wasn’t a statement,” Minki says. “That was a question.”

“Oh,” Jonghyun murmurs. He swallows down another sip, his eyes flickering away from Minki’s stare. Uncomfortable or simply taken aback by Minki’s bluntness? “Why do you want to know?” he asks, when he finally sets down his glass.

Minki raises an eyebrow. Certainly not a response he anticipated. Maybe this Jonghyun has more spark to him than Minki expected. This characteristic isn’t necessarily Minhyun’s type, but unless Minki’s intuitions are failing him (which _never_ happens), Jonghyun means more to Minhyun than just a typical one night stand to keep the elitist bastard’s ego from withering and his dick from shrinking. “I was in Hawaii,” Minki states.

“Really,” Jonghyun replies. His voice and expression are neutral.

“Choi Siwon’s conference. Just Minhyun and I,” Minki continues. “You,” he points at Jonghyun, “met him in Hawaii without me knowing. He took _you_ \--” Minki jabs his index finger for emphasis, “--to his room and slept with you. I--” now the point of his finger is pressed against his own chest, “--am Minhyun’s secretary and his closest friend, even though we hate each other’s guts. This is more than enough reason for me to know about _Hawaii._ ” Of course, Minki has no clue if Jonghyun actually _did_ sleep with Minhyun, but his sixth sense and all the knowledge he’s been presented with so far point in that direction.

It seems that Jonghyun confirms it anyways. _Hmph,_ Minki thinks, he’s not _that_ kind of shrewd type, for he didn’t even bother to question how Minki knew anything.

Jonghyun takes a moment to reply. “Fair enough,” he responds, “really, that was all that happened.”

“ _All?_ _Please,_ ” Minki scoffs. “I know Minhyun. He doesn’t bat an eye dealing with people that he’s fucked just for the sake of sex. But if that person means _something else_ …” Minki’s gaze briefly flickers upwards. “Only seen it happen once. It was just shortly after I met him. Don’t know what happened, but the only other person I’ve seen able to make him even a little bit flustered was the infamous Bang Minah.”

“The model Bang Minah?” Jonghyun asks, raising his eyebrows in shock. “ _That_ woman?”

Minki shrugs. “Yeah, she went to primary school with him I guess. But that’s besides the point. _What else_ happened in Hawaii?”

“I don’t know?” Jonghyun says, frowning, “We got drunk, we fucked, and then he bought be breakfast the next morning. Repeat that for like, a whole week.”

“A _whole week?!_ ” Minki nearly spits out his champagne. “ _Breakfast?!_ ”

“...Yes?” Jonghyun slinks back in his seat slightly, as if terrified by Minki’s sudden outburst. The latter is staring across the table, hunched forward with his knuckles digging into the wood of the table.

“I can’t believe it,” Minki mutters, retracting back into his chair, and he downs the rest of his champagne in one go. He doesn’t speak until refilling his flute with the bottle of champagne sitting atop the white tablecloth. “Is this real life?”

“...Yes?” Jonghyun echoes weakly. The only thought going through his head at the moment is what kind of crazy character Minhyun’s secretary must be.

“He’s in love,” Minki murmurs under his breath, and it’s almost a whisper, because he genuinely _can’t_ believe it. “I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“...What?”

“He’s in love! With the associate director of finance! Of his own damn company!”

“He isn’t,” Jonghyun immediately replies. He sighs, leaning back and shifting a knee atop the other, running a thumb up and down his cocktail glass, “if he was, why in the world would he be ignoring me?”

“ _Ignoring_ you?”

“Yeah, he told me we’d meet up after I returned back to Seoul. I texted him about meeting last Wednesday, he said no, and then I asked about last weekend and then he never replied even though he’s read it.”

Now it’s Minki’s time to start hysterically laughing. He just _can’t_ believe it -- the audacity of Mr. Hwang-fucking-Minhyun appalls him. He knew his friend was arrogant and egotistical and had a hubris the size of Jupiter, but not to this degree. _What a silly teenage girl,_ Minki thinks.

Jonghyun, watching Minki going through his laughing fit and nearly choking on champagne, wonders if he should leave and just confront Minhyun himself. Minhyun’s secretary carries this aura with him that makes Jonghyun feel like whatever he says is unsafe -- almost as if there’s more than just Minki himself listening.

But something tells him to stay planted in his seat, and so he does.

“H-He’s an arrogant bastard,” Minki wheezes out, clutching his chest, “give him some time.”  
“‘Arrogant’?” Jonghyun murmurs. “No, I don’t think so, he--”

“He’s ghosting the shit out of you because he can’t come and accept the fact that the first time he’s finally fucking an employee of his, that employee is _one,_ the _associate director of finance,_ and _two, that he’s is actually in love_ with said _associate director of finance._ Knowing him, he probably thought you were some aristocrat or company owner that he could’ve wheedled a project contract out of.”

Jonghyun remains silent, gaping at Minki. He doesn’t know how exactly to process the blonde man’s words. They seem unreal to him, because the Minhyun he’s met and known definitely doesn’t seem as… malicious as Minki makes him out to be. But what does he know? He’s spent a month at maximum knowing who Minhyun is. Minki’s spent who knows how many years. “Is he really that… petty…” Jonghyun states, his voice fading off. His eyebrows are knitted together in perplexion.

“‘Petty’!” Minki exclaims. He giggles. “I suppose you could say that. Yes, he’s very petty, Jonghyun. I’m sorry, a petty man fell in love with you.” Minki leans forward, propping up an elbow and pointing at Jonghyun. “And I presume you fell in love with the petty man?”

Jonghyun grinds his teeth, pursing his lips. “The sex was good,” he grits out, and Minki immediately scrunches up his nose.

“Okay, so you’re in love. Great. Just give our loverboy Minhyun sometime to calm his ego, come to realize his loneliness and that your love can fill that hole in his heart--” Now Jonghyun’s unsure if Minki’s being entirely serious or if this is some act he’s been keeping up. If Minhyun’s had to deal with this hilarity his whole career, then maybe the CEO himself may as well be crazy too.

“--and then maybe I can catch a break and you can be promoted to director.”

“Is this all about money?” Jonghyun flatly asks, narrowing his eyes.

Minki doesn’t give him a proper response. He stands up, setting down his champagne flute and adjusting his tie. “We hate each other’s guts, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t want each other to be happy.” With two fingers on each hand, he tugs at the lapels of his collar, before prompting saluting Jonghyun. “It’s nearing eight, and that means I have to go home.”

Jonghyun glances down at his watch. Sure enough, it’s only four minutes until eight, and Minki hadn’t even checked his phone in order to see the time.

When Jonghyun looks back up, the seat across from him is empty and the space where Minki once stood is as well.

* * *

Minhyun has never given himself much time to reflect on his own character and his own surroundings. It’s always been all about work and impressions, never a topic that would require him to sit back in his chair, close his eyes, and detach his physical senses from his awareness. People always say that the most successful are the ones that are able to think the most when needed and think nothing at all when given the time. That is Minhyun, although the way “nothing” has stretched for him has caused him to sit down one Saturday afternoon and stare across the living room at the sky through the sliding door to his balcony.

The sky, he notices, is void of any sort of weather, achingly similar to how his home might feel. It’s just him, living in this spacious area. Sometimes Minki will come by, sometimes it’ll be other directors in departments that deal directly with Minhyun. It’s a constant rotation of people that’re here one or two nights a week.

Otherwise, Minhyun’s only companion is his work. There’s always something that he either has to pen down or properly evaluate on a screen. His office has become his second bedroom.

However, today is a Saturday, and Jaehwan and Minki had taken the brunt of the load of work, giving Minhyun some time to think.

It’s all this space, all this commodity, and it’s all for one person. If one were to walk into Minhyun’s home, they’d think that a couple or even a family may live here. There’s three couches, the dining table is large and has several chairs, there are two bathrooms, and Minhyun’s bed itself is a four-poster -- more than enough for just one person.

He never exactly intended to live like this -- to own so much excess that it almost seems as if he’s being swamped in living space. It’s just that when you’ve got money and you’ve got power, you’ve also got an undaunting responsibility to yourself, and that often presents itself hand-in-hand with isolation.

Minhyun thinks about his time in Hawaii. His hotel room was larger than a typical hotel room given that it was in a luxury resort, but now that he takes the time to evaluate his experience, he realizes that Hawaii felt a little bit different to him, because for one, he never treated it as solely business. He associated his hotel room not as just a hotel room, but as a room that he’d return to at the end of the day. It’s smaller than his penthouse, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

And of course, with Hawaii comes Jonghyun.

Damn, what was Minhyun thinking? What is he thinking _now?_ All that flashes through his mind is Jonghyun’s face. Jonghyun’s hands, his chest, his shoulders, his neck, his arms, legs, hips-- Minhyun grits his teeth, clenching his hands into the cotton of his pajama pants. Jonghyun has ignored him for this week, and Minhyun doesn’t know if he’s happy or not. A small part of him wishes that maybe his phone would buzz and he’d see the _Jong_ and instead of _Jongdae,_ the public relations executive on Minhyun’s board of executives, he'd see _Jonghyun._

But the rest of him screams that he shouldn’t care. Jonghyun’s his fucking _employee,_ and he’s nowhere near the ideal type Minhyun has on that pedestal in his head for who exactly he’d want to actually even _consider_ dating. God, he’s the fucking _CEO,_ should he even be _thinking_ about relationships?

 _Yes,_ he subconsciously says. Jonghyun is the first person Minhyun’s encountered that could successfully match him physically, emotionally, and mentally. It was actually _fun_ for Minhyun to hang around him for that one week. That was the most enjoyment Minhyun’s ever had since his primary school years.

And god, now that he realizes it, he’s also simultaneously come to realize that he’s been missing that feeling. Because really, Jonghyun helped him uncover an old emotion, and now that that feeling is just sitting right under Minhyun’s palm, where he can grasp it and take it with him wherever he goes with just a simple wish--no obstacles, no difficulties, no restrictions--it makes it all the more tempting to do so.

But there’s also that part of Minhyun that’s prideful. It’s the part of him that’s built up that image in his head, that hunger for the status of power and supremacy that cannot be tainted, will not be tainted, because Minhyun’s own determination is its guard.

He always believed his resilience was one that could be considered inhuman, so how could it be broken down just by the existence of a single person? Minhyun can’t wrap his head around that fact. It appalls him.

For now, he just hopes that what he feels for Jonghyun--the Jonghyun that he sees in his memories--will just fade away, and Jonghyun will become nothing more than what he is: the _associate director of finance._


	3. III

Minki is smart. If he were not smart--and if Minhyun didn’t acknowledge this--there would be no way he’d have held his current position for so long, juggling not only Minhyun’s schedules, but also doing a fair amount of the CEO’s mundane work. There’s always people that need talking, contracts that need to be adjusted accordingly, snobbish executive officers that need a little bit of persuading, journalists and media reporters that need to be charmed -- it’s all Minki’s doing. Minhyun himself makes a very fair impression upon people, but in the back, behind Minhyun’s overbearing shadow, one could say that Minki’s doing a lot of the string-pulling.

After all these years, you’d expect he’d get tired of it; but in reality, he _loves_ it, because this is the kind of person he is: dramatic and meddling.

So what does a dramatic and meddling secretary do to his CEO whose guts he hates but loves at the same time? He picks at the schedules of both his CEO and a certain _associate director of finance_ so that opportunities will present themselves accordingly.

There’s a meeting with all the department directors and Minhyun himself next Tuesday, Minki knows. Of course, Junmyeon is the finance director, but that doesn’t mean that Minki can’t decide to send him, say, to _another country._ What was the name of that woman Minhyun was trying to court at the cocktail party when they were in Hawaii? The one that brushed him off so easily even through his incessant flirting? Now that Canvas and GQ China have entered a contract deal, Minki figures some extra promotion in China wouldn’t hurt.

 _Ah,_ Minki thinks, scrolling through his list of contacts on his computer screen. _Zhou Jieqiong. Nielsen China._ Minki’ll send Junmyeon to meet with her to discuss prospective market research budgeting for promotional services in China, and then maybe Jieqiong will agree to enter business with Canvas. If she does so, then Minhyun will get to meet with her more often.

There, two birds with one stone. Junmyeon will be gone, which automatically means Jonghyun must fill in for him at the directors’ meeting, and Canvas will be simultaneously expanding its outlooks.

Minki opens up a new email. _To: Kim Junmyeon. Cc: Kim Jonghyun. Mr. Hwang requests that you attend a meeting with Zhou Jieqiong, director of Nielsen China, next Tuesday. I have already discussed this with Miss Zhou’s assistant_ \-- in reality, Minki has no clue if Jieqiong even has an assistant, but that’s such a small detail he can glaze over easily.

The whole time Minki types, even after he’s hit that send button, he grins.

* * *

That little dipshit, Minhyun thinks. Fucking hell, he should just fire Minki and get it over with. Promote Kwak Aron in his place or something -- actually, shit, Aron isn’t capable, _no one besides Minki is,_ Minhyun has known for a long time. That’s why the ugly blonde bastard is still in his position.

Currently, Minhyun is sitting at the head of an oval table, directly across from the giant television screen mounted against one of the room’s walls. In Junmyeon’s place, _two fucking seats down from Minhyun,_ sits Jonghyun.

Minhyun grits his teeth. He and Jonghyun haven’t had any contact for two or three weeks. In fact, Minhyun had avoided the third floor of the building like the damn plague, just so he wouldn’t chance any awkward encounters with Jonghyun.

Well, this encounter isn’t so much _chance_ \-- Minki fucking _forced_ it upon him.

At the moment, Dongho is drawling about something up at the front of the room. There’s a graph on the screen, and normally Minhyun would pay apt attention to the media department’s director, because after all this is the fucking _media department_ and Minhyun hired Dongho two years ago because the previous director was an asshole and didn’t know what exactly was acceptable and non-controversial advertising in media, so really Minhyun should be paying attention, but _no,_ his eyes keep on wandering back to his peripheral vision.

Jonghyun doesn’t even looks like he’s fucking _acknowledging_ Minhyun -- how _dare_ he?

Okay, wait, didn’t Minhyun wish that Jonghyun would leave him alone? But then now that Jonghyun is sitting right there, two seats down from him, and is quite actively ignoring him, Minhyun feels like he wants to sink his teeth into something soft, pliable, maybe a little squishy--

Oh, just like the skin on Jonghyun’s neck. The lines of his throat shift as he swallows, and Minhyun subconsciously licks his lips. He vividly remembers kissing down that expanse of skin -- the very first button of Jonghyun’s collar is undone. It sits low enough that just a few more centimeters and his collarbones would be visible.

Everything that Dongho’s saying is flying right over Minhyun’s head. He’s much too focused on Jonghyun’s face that’s turned away from him. There’s the corner of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, the curve of his forehead -- all defined shapes and shadows that meet and slot together, and then there’s suddenly Jonghyun’s face, a face that Minhyun has never failed to constantly admire ever since the first time his eyes were laid upon him.

Minhyun knows that Jonghyun wants him, but he doesn’t know if Jonghyun is angry at him. It’s a possibility, since he’s actively ignoring Minhyun, but then again, his expression appears entirely emotionless.

Actually, why is Minhyun even thinking about if Jonghyun is angry at him? It shouldn’t matter, correct? On instinct, his lips want to curl back into a scowl, but instead he just bites the inside of his mouth, and his lips twitch oddly.

“So, Mr. Hwang, what do you think?”

“...What?” Minhyun mutters. All the heads in the room--including Jonghyun--turn to Minhyun and look at him oddly. Minhyun swallows, tapping an index finger on the wood table. “Could you please repeat that, Director Kang?”

“Uh, which part, Mr. Hwang?” Dongho asks, blinking confusingly. His thumb is hovering over the power button on the remote to the screen -- clearly, he’d been excited to finish.

“From the beginning,” Minhyun states firmly. Yeah, he hadn’t listened to a single fucking word.

“...The whole presentation?” Dongho replies, and out of the corner of Minhyun’s eye, he sees the other directors in the room glance at each other in surprise and perplexion. Dongho narrows his eyes, and Minhyun can practically see his colleague (and friend) rolling his eyes.

“Yes.” Minhyun stares straight ahead at Dongho, who doesn’t look exactly nervous, more apprehensive.

“It’s been twenty-four minutes, and both Mr. Kim from the finance department and Mrs. Park from the production department need to give their presentations.”

“Still--”

“How about I send you a briefing after the meeting?” Dongho smiles charmingly. At this point, Minhyun can practically feel the gazes of all the other people in the room -- or, rather, feel _Jonghyun’s_ gaze burning holes into his skin.

“...Yes, that will work,” Minhyun replies slowly, his voice stale and dry. The rest of the room seems to collectively silently sigh, turning back to Dongho up at the front.

“Fantastic.” Dongho grins, “So, any questions?”

Minhyun shakes his foot the whole time his colleagues raise their hands, point their pens, and Dongho waves his palms around and juggles words that go in one of Minhyun’s ears only to immediately fly out the other. He notices Jonghyun glance at him a few times during the whole debacle -- probably noticed Minhyun’s slight uneasiness, although he’s done his best to cover it all up.

However, this is _Jonghyun_ \-- whatever Minhyun does doesn’t pass by him as easily.

“The room is all yours, Mr. Kim,” Dongho says, exchanging the screen remote with Jonghyun, who rises from his seat and presses down the flaps of his suit jacket before accepting the remote graciously and with a -- Minhyun isn’t sure if he’s seeing things right, but is it a _knowing_ smile?

Jonghyun chatters on about money, budget, quarterly revenue, profit, expense, and Minhyun’s already heard all of this when he sat down for a talk with Junmyeon those few weeks ago. He probably _does_ need to hear it again, but instead he’s much too focused _again_ on Jonghyun.

There’s Jonghyun speaking, but Minhyun doesn’t hear his voice. Instead, all of his senses have become his sight, and he’s fully absorbing in the way Jonghyun’s lips move, how they form around syllables and words and those small flicks of his tongue and the keening of his teeth when he talks -- Minhyun’s observing all of it, and he’s remembering those lips and tongue and teeth against his, the taste of alcohol on both of their breaths and the swimming of heated intoxication through their consciouses which made every touch and every whisper amplified.

Time flies by. It whirs past Minhyun’s cheek. He doesn’t even realize time _is_ a thing, because he’s much too absorbed just in the realm of how Jonghyun’s face is moving as he talks, the way he smiles and nods and the way his eyes glance over everyone’s heads when he’s trying to recall a piece of information from his memory. It all ends too soon when Minhyun realizes Jonghyun’s lips are forming the shape of the word “questions”, and then in his peripheral vision there’s Jongdae raising a hand.

 _Fucking hell, let Jongdae speak, he’s perfectly capable,_ Minhyun thinks, and he just leans his cheek on a fist, crossing his legs and tapping his fingers, drowning himself in that glow of light right over Jonghyun’s shoulder from the screen, letting the sound of Jonghyun’s voice float into his memory, all until he nearly jumps as he hears, “How about you, Mr. _Hwang Minhyun?_ ”

Minhyun nearly rises up to the ceiling because Jonghyun just called him _Mr. Hwang Minhyun,_ and nobody besides that ugly blonde bastard Choi Minki calls him that. He feels like everyone in the room just noticed what happened, but in reality, there’s not a single eye that’s been bat -- they’re all just waiting for Minhyun to give his response. And when Minhyun stares directly into Jonghyun’s eyes, he swears he sees the glimmer of a laugh in them -- dang it.

“Perfect,” Minhyun states, his voice smooth and sliding throughout the room.

“‘Perfect’?” Jonghyun raises his eyebrows.

“You asked me what I wanted to add, and I have already contributed my commentary.” Minhyun’s face is emotionless -- if anything, he’s challenging Jonghyun.

“Well,” Jonghyun says, turning his gaze away, although he hasn’t seemed to acknowledge Minhyun’s coldness at all, “then I suppose if there is nothing else, I would like to invite Mrs. Park up to speak.”

When Jonghyun is no longer looking at him, Minhyun closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He only opens them when he hears footsteps in his direction, and his eyes only open enough so that he can see the body of the person that slides into the chair two seats down from him, but not their face.

* * *

“Yeah, he was definitely uncomfortable,” Jonghyun muses. He raises his glass of Sprite to his lips. There’s another little lime on the glass edge, Minki notices. Are all the drinks this guy likes that… girly?

“Great,” Minki hums. At that moment, a waiter breezes by, and Minki waves him over. “An Old Jamaican for this guy here.” He gestures towards Jonghyun, who immediately raises his head in surprise. “Make it with Appleton’s, please.”

The waiter notes down the order, and once he’s walked away, Jonghyun turns to Minki and frowns. “I don’t drink rum,” he says, “especially rum that expensive.”

“Well, now you do.” Minki completely brushes off Jonghyun’s complaint. He sees Jonghyun open his mouth to protest, but he immediately leans forward and begins to speak, interrupting the latter. “What do you want your next step of action to be?”

“I--” Jonghyun closes his mouth, pursing his lips. “I thought you were the one that was deciding this.”

Minki drinks from his glass of wine. He taps his index finger against the stem, swirling the liquid inside. “Yeah, I’m the person who came up with this plan, but I’m not the one that’s in love with Minhyun and nor am I the one that has any sort of power over him.”

“You think _I_ have power over Minhyun?” Jonghyun jabs his thumb against his chest. He laughs, throwing his head back as his fingertips drum against the tablecloth. “Why would you think that? He’s the CEO, I’m the--”

“You’re wrong,” Minki interrupts mildly. “I’m not talking about occupation hierarchy. I’m talking about the fact that although Minhyun looks cold as hell, and he really indeed is good at controlling his emotions, that his so-called emotionless heart is simply because he’s gotten so used to restricting feelings that he experiences quite often. Affection and love are not part of this group. So, therefore, the reason you saw him looking uncomfortable was because he was unprepared and inexperienced at dealing with the object of his affections right in front of him: _you._ ” Minki sighs. At that moment, the waiter returns, placing the glass of rum in front of Jonghyun, who stares at it suspiciously. “Drink. I paid for it,” Minki states.

Jonghyun narrows his eyes, but he still grabs the glass and takes a long gulp.

Minki shakes his foot underneath the table, raising an eyebrow at Jonghyun’s particularly elongated sip. “So therefore, because you are the aforementioned object of affection, you have the ability to manipulate Minhyun’s reactions and emotions.”

“What do you want me to do, then?” Jonghyun asks after he sets down his glass and wipes at the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

“Entice him,” Minki says easily. He picks up his fork and stabs it into an asparagus stalk, bringing it up to his lips.

“ _‘Entice’_ him?!” Jonghyun exclaims, “The hell you mean by that?”

“I can make it so that you two see each other often, but there’s always two ends to a ladder. If you want to meet halfway to make the climbing easier for both of us, then you’re going to have to take a few steps too. I’m not saying to do something big, I’m just saying small things. Like, lick your lips more often. Glance at him more often. Swallow more often. Minhyun likes necks.”

Jonghyun immediately presses back against his chair, a palm coming up to rub at his nape.

“So yeah,” Minki continues, “that’s it. That’s all you need to do.”

“Okay,” Jonghyun agrees, “okay.”

“Wonderful.” Minki stabs into another asparagus. Honestly, they undercooked it. It’s a little too rubbery.

“By the way, you should’ve asked for Havana with this, not Appleton’s. I know Appleton’s is a classic for an Old Jamaican, but the fruitier flavouring in Havana would’ve been better suited with the champagne they used in this -- it’s a little bitter.”

“I thought you didn’t drink rum,” Minki notes, pointing his fork at Jonghyun. “Liar.”

Jonghyun scoffs. “You know, hanging around Minhyun and expensive liquor for a whole week _did_ teach me something. I’m not a skeletal sponge.”

Minki almost snorts when he laughs. “Valid point,” he chuckles, and Jonghyun smiles as he takes the first bite into his pasta.

* * *

Minhyun can’t believe it. Kim-fucking-Junmyeon is still somewhere over in China, and Minhyun has absolutely no fucking clue why, because all that fucker Minki said was that it was Junmyeon had somehow managed to charm _Zhou Jieqiong_ into _actually_ considering a business deal -- what the fuck?   
He’s been forced into a meeting with some financial executives--which happens to include Jonghyun, because he’s still subbing in for Junmyeon--as one of Canvas’s partners decided to drop out of a deal the last moment, throwing the whole budgeting plan for the upcoming quarter into chaos.

At the moment, Song Joohee from accounting is reading something off of her computer screen. Minhyun is _definitely_ attempting to listen, because if there’s anything he cares about almost as much as himself, it’s money, and when money’s at risk, his ears are for sure perked.

But he should’ve known it wouldn’t be an easy task at all, because of course there’s still Jonghyun sitting there two seats down from him -- he _needn’t_ even sit there, but he still did, and sometimes he gazes at Minhyun out of the corner of his eye, and sometimes Minhyun _thinks_ he’s meeting Jonghyun’s stare, but when he blinks, Jonghyun’s not looking at him at all.

Minhyun most definitely loathes this, this sort of cat-and-mouse game that he’s suddenly found himself thrown into, and now he’s sitting at the center of the maze, unsure if the cheese is towards the north or south entrance because everything he smells carries the scent of damn cheese.

Jonghyun’s now curling his fingers around the handle of his mug sitting in front of him, although he doesn’t bring it up to his lips. Minhyun’s eyes automatically land on the way Jonghyun’s thumb is running up and down the white porcelain handle. He has to forcibly wrench his eyes back to Joohee sitting several seats down.

In order to distract himself, Minhyun starts to violently shake his foot beneath the table -- well, as violently as he can without making any movements and attracting unwanted attention. He thinks he’s doing a good job, because he’s managed to comprehensively scribble down some notes on what Joohee’s saying into his notebook. And when Joohee takes a pause in breath, Minhyun skims over them quickly -- oh, wonderful, his handwriting is legible for once, and he’s not skipping random words all over the page. Minhyun feels inwardly proud, but when he glances at his left wrist, he realizes it’s only been a short _eight fucking minutes._ He feels like he’s been sitting there for at least an hour.

And now that he’s realized that he’s actually being much less productive than he thought he was, his eyes are automatically drawn back to Jonghyun.

Jonghyun, hand having never left the handle of his mug, now picks the mug back up and brings it to his lips. Minhyun narrows his eyes, watching the pink of Jonghyun’s lips curl around the white of his mug. His eyes are averted, staring at something over Joohee’s head (he wouldn’t be the only one to be doing so -- meetings are so utterly mundane), so Minhyun _thinks_ he hasn’t noticed anything.

Jonghyun swallows, and Minhyun watches the lump at his throat bob up and down as he gulps water. Subconsciously, Minhyun’s eyes narrow even more. He may as well be squinting at this point.

Several gulps later, Jonghyun brings his mug down, setting it gracefully atop the wooden table with a soft thud. To Minhyun’s shock, there’s a dribble of water sliding its way out of the corner of his mouth, making its way down his chin, and from this angle Minhyun can see the slight glaze it leaves on Jonghyun’s skin. Jonghyun’s tongue darts out, licking his bottom lip and lapping up what water there is where it can reach. Minhyun’s eyes widen--they’re now back to their normal size, but they probably will enlarge even more soon--and Minhyun feels his heart throbbing at such a simple action. His fingers twitch, and there’s that side of him that’s resurfacing, that face of his that automatically masks his stone-like stupor whenever there’s something he just wants to _touch_ slide right under his palm.

And Jonghyun brings his hand up and rubs away the excess water that’d dribbled down, pursing his lips and swallowing as he does so, and Minhyun swears that the wave of arousal that hits him is imaginary, because it feels so unreal -- he sees all those memories of Jonghyun, pliant and hot underneath his grip, flashing through his head. He really shouldn’t be _this_ kind of nostalgic at the moment, because now there’s Donghae, the financial executive, speaking, and out of all the people in the room, his words probably matter most, but Minhyun’s hands are trembling slightly and now Jonghyun’s set his mug back down and is looking directly at him, head turned and all, but Minhyun doesn’t notice.

“Mr. Hwang,” Joohee says calmly, and Minhyun shakes, turning his head immediately and blinking back at Joohee. Joohee, noticing his odd behavior, stares at him over the rim of her glasses. “Sir, are you alright?”

“Can you repeat that?” Minhyun says, drawing out his words calmly.

“Are you--” Joohee begins.

“No, what you said before that.” Joohee makes a gesture towards Donghae, who looks at Minhyun exasperatedly. Minhyun can practically see Donghae already walking into Minhyun’s office later today with a stern question on his tongue.

“As I was saying…” Donghae begins, and he turns his head back to staring at his colleagues, although his eyes never leave Minhyun’s face until the last moment. “If we allocate the funds that were supposed to go towards print media instead towards market research--since Qualtrics was supposed to handle that--then we’d be realistically looking at about a fifteen percent deficit in…”

Minhyun takes a slow breath. If he were bothering to look to his left, he’d see Jonghyun with a small smile on his face.

* * *

When Minhyun goes to sit down in his office, he sees Minki waiting for him, relaxing atop the black leather sofa inside the room. How’d Minki even get in here? Oh, that’s right, Minhyun had given him a spare key. Now, Minhyun would _never_ under any normal circumstance, but since he _does_ dump a fair amount of his own work onto Minki, he’d either have to give the blonde bastard a spare key or do all of his own work.

“What are you doing here?” Minhyun asks, setting down his notebook on his desk.

“Company party,” Minki replies, simply. He crosses and uncross his leg. Now his right’s atop his left. “Three weeks, remember?”

“Fuck,” Minhyun mutters, “that crap again.”

“Thought you loved parties,” Minki hums. He’s now looking at his nails, holding his hand in front of his face and splaying his fingers.

“I like parties only when I get to talk with people outside of this company.” Minhyun sighs, slumping down into his chair. He swivels around in it once, before taking another deep breath and leaning his elbows onto his desk, staring at Minki. “Just make the same plans as last year. I don’t care if it’s the same caterer or whatever, as long as everything looks pristine.”

“No changes?” Minki hums. “Nothing new or special or fancy? Invite all the same people too?”

“Yes…” Minhyun says slowly, “why are you asking me this?”

Minki doesn’t bother to give a proper answer. He just immediately stands up, doing a little hop as he hooks his thumbs into his pant pockets before murmuring something under his breath. “Alright, I’ll go call the caterer and planners.”

Minhyun frowns as he watches Minki’s form disappear out the door of his office. At that moment, his phone buzzes, and glancing at the screen, he sees the name _Jong--_

Oh, it’s Jongdae. It’s been weeks. Why is Minhyun’s heartbeat still skipping?

* * *

Because Minki’s doing the planning and making the phone calls, that means that he can slip an extra name onto the guest list. Junmyeon is back from China, but that doesn’t mean that Minki can’t say that Minhyun requested Jonghyun on the list because of how well he’d handled tasks during Junmyeon’s absence. Jonghyun, in the past three weeks, had done a good job of managing to irk the hell out of Minhyun; and thusly, also provide Minki endless amounts of entertainment. It’s extremely fucking hilarious when you see your boss almost spill his coffee walking back to his office because a certain someone was using the copier machine in the hallway, even though he has one of his own on his own damn _floor._ Minhyun didn’t even bother to ask why Jonghyun was on the fifth floor when his office was on the third. Too tongue-tied, Minki thought. Under any normal circumstance, Minhyun wouldn’t hesitate to point out someone acting oddly.

The night of the company party has approached, and Minhyun is still as resilient as ever. His limit is clearly being prodded, because he’s more irksome and wallows more in his moody corner than normal. He’s most definitely like a teenage boy who’s just had his heart broken by the girl that he thought he’d one day marry, Minki thinks. How disgusting.

Minhyun had his driver pick up Minki and a few other of their friends and colleagues. As expected, he had champagne inside the mini fridge, although Minki politely declined. He’s going to stuff himself full of food before consuming any alcohol so that he’ll be (mostly) sober to witness if anything interesting goes down during the evening.

At the moment, Minki and Minhyun are sitting at a table with plates of food and glasses of wine in front of them. Dongho’s chattering away with Aron, who seems a little bored but nonetheless actively listens. Minki’s trying to feed his virtual fish on his phone, and Minhyun is sipping wine while he critically watches his employees roam around the room.

Out of the corner of his eye, Minhyun can see Jonghyun, the shiny navy of his cut vest and white dress shirt stark against the black of everyone else’s suits. An interesting choice in fashion, Minhyun thinks, and he tries to see more, but his line of vision is cut off by a swath of red silk.

Following the silhouette of the cloth up, he sees a young woman whom he recognizes as the newest director of public relations, Ong Seonghee. The silk of her dress drapes over her rather appealing figure, cloth flowing and pulled taut in all the appropriate places. Minhyun’s nose wrinkles. Seonghee’s dangling from Jonghyun’s every single action, a flirtatious smile on her face as she lays a hand on Jonghyun’s vest lapel. Minhyun’s automatic reaction is to slam his glass of wine down onto the table a little too hard. The force from his action shakes the table, and Dongho looks up from his conversation with Aron in alarm.

“Christ,” Dongho comments, frowning. He eyes Minhyun with acute trepidation. “Who shoved the stick farther up your ass today?”

Minki nearly cackles as he wraps his fingers around the stem of his glass, bringing it up to his lips as he says, “I have an idea, and it’s of a special associate director of finance named Kim Jonghyun.”

Aron raises his eyebrows, scanning the room. He chuckles when he sees what Minhyun had been staring at for who knows how long. “So, Jonghyun does have game. He scored the lady first, eh?”

Dongho blinks confusedly. “Minhyun, you know, if you wanted another pretty woman you could’ve just asked me to introduce you to some models. It doesn’t have to be the new public relations director.”

Aron nods in agreement. “Hey, you know, my cousin’s single too. Remember her? Sejeong? She’s a stick in the mud too, you guys would be absolutely perfect together.”

At this point, Minhyun is grinding his teeth, his hands balling up into fists. _These fuckers,_ he thinks, and he tries to interrupt, but Minki beats him to it.

Minki rolls his eyes, laughing. “You guys are seriously so dense. Mr. Hwang Minhyun doesn’t want the lady over there, he’s interested in the hot piece of ass that she’s hanging off of.”

Dongho’s eyes widen, and he immediately begins coughing, having choked on the wine he was drinking. “W-What?” he stutters, and Aron’s pounding on his back.

Aron frowns. “Kim Jonghyun? Are we talking about the same guy here?”

Minki just sighs, shaking his head. “Can you guys open your damn eyes and look? Kim Jonghyun is totally Minhyun’s type. He’s holding himself well against Miss Ong. He dresses decently even though he probably doesn’t have that much money. His laugh isn’t ugly and loud. There’s something in his expression that always says that he’s thinking about something.”

Aron sits back in his chair, eyebrows still furrowed, although now a thoughtful look has taken place on his face. “Well, I suppose so. He’s not unattractive, and he isn’t a vulgar character.”

Dongho nearly snorts. “Jonghyun’s out of Minhyun’s league. He’s much too kind for our brooding and cold CEO.”

Aron chuckles in agreement. “Minhyun might break him.”

Minki rolls his eyes, uncrossing and re-crossing his legs as he drinks from his glass. “Unless Jonghyun breaks him first,” he muses.

Minhyun wants to snark back at his friends -- _how insolent and rude,_ he thinks, but his priorities are reshuffled when he sees Seonghee’s hand sliding down the front of Jonghyun’s vest. Jonghyun himself may appear to be placid, but Minhyun can tell with the way his stance has stiffened that he’s uncomfortable.

“Oh, are you going to finally intervene?” Minki hums, downing the rest of his wine. “If I knew a simple woman was going to push your limits, then I should’ve just hired someone a long time ago instead of jumping through all these hoops with Jonghyun.”

Minhyun doesn’t even hear Minki, because that feeling is back inside of him, the kind of emotion that makes his hand twitch as something heated rises up inside of his chest. He grits his teeth. He wants to grab something, maybe crush it in his grip, but instead he fans the flames creeping towards his brain away.

Minhyun stands up, straightening his suit jacket. As he walks away, Aron calls out after him, “Don’t scare her away too much, Minhyun, there are some of us that would still like a shot with her!”

Dongho grimaces. “I don’t think it’s Seonghee we should be worried about, Aron.”

Minhyun stalks over to the couple, the sound of his dress shoes against tile ominous. He glares at the offensive hand that’s starting to creep even farther down the front of Jonghyun’s vest. As he approaches, he puts on a professional smile, but he feels the corners of his lips twitch, threatening to pull into a grimace.

Jonghyun raises an eyebrow when he sees Minhyun approach, but his expression quickly neutralizes. Instead, Minhyun sees something like amusement glimmer in his eyes although the rest of his facial muscles are entirely still.

“Hello Seonghee, Jonghyun,” Minhyun greets coldly with a curt nod, and he’s trying his best to keep his voice firm and steady like it always is, even though there’s Jonghyun right here in front of him, and this is the closest they’ve been ever ever since Hawaii.

Seonghee straightens her posture, and her smile grows even wider. “Minhyun,” she hums, her voice smooth, “no need for formalities. We’ve known each other for far too long for that.” She sidles up to Minhyun’s side, resting a hand on his bicep. Minhyun doesn’t miss the shocked frown that flashes over Jonghyun’s face.

“Ah, yes, how long has it been since primary school, Ong Seonghee? You’re still as charming as ever,” Minhyun says, and he’s trying his best to not grind his teeth.

“Oh, what’s with the frown, Minhyun? This is a party, you should be enjoying yourself. After all, you are indeed the CEO and the host. It’s been quite a lovely evening. Oh, that reminds me. Where may your significant other be? I think it would be quite a pleasure to meet them.”

Minhyun grits his teeth, remaining silent. He sees Jonghyun raise an eyebrow out of the corner of his eye.

Seonghee’s smile twists into something a little more predatory, completely opposite to the sweet and honeyed grin she’d donned earlier. “You mustn’t still be bitter about Minah, right? It’s not her fault that she wanted a classy and refined madam instead of a mousy chaebol.”

Minhyun feels his insides twist, and he’s curling and uncurling his fists behind his back. “That isn’t--” he begins, voice low, threatening to slide into a growl, but Seonghee cuts him off.

“I didn’t think you’d still be so hung up, Minhyun. It’s been more than a decade.”

The air Minhyun sucks in through his mouth almost whistles, the action harsh with his attempt at self-restraint. “I’d like to think that we’re both more mature than back then, right, Seonghee?” he inquires, an icy politeness coating his words. Readjusting his posture, he adds, “If you don’t mind, I approached you two in order to have a word with Jonghyun.”

He’s about to turn away, but he pauses when Jonghyun replies with a, “Wait, I would first like to ask Miss Seonghee for her card.”

Minhyun nearly whips around and grabs Jonghyun himself, but he forces his limbs to remain still. The airy laugh that Seonghee gives grinds his ears, and he tries his best to tune out her voice as she replies, “And here I thought all my efforts were for nothing.”

Minhyun squeezes his eyes tightly closed when Jonghyun chuckles and says, “It would be lovely to go out for coffee with you one day, Miss Seonghee.” Minhyun begins to walk before Seonghee can reply, and he hears the shuffling of Jonghyun’s shoes behind him.

“Finally decided to speak to me?” Jonghyun asks, and even though Minhyun isn’t facing him, he can tell Jonghyun is grinning just by the lilt in his voice.  
“Junmyeon had something for you,” Minhyun replies coldly, gazing at Jonghyun from the corner of his eye, his head angled to the side, “but he has already left for the night, and so he asked me to tell you.”

“Oh, is that all?” Jonghyun quips.

And before Minhyun can say anything more, Jonghyun stalks away.

* * *

“You’ve got some nerve,” Jonghyun says, as he breezes into Minhyun’s office the next day.

“What--” Minhyun begins, looking up from his paperwork, “--how did you get in here? Where’s Minki? Hey--” he leans to the side, glancing to the doorway, “--Minki! What in the world--”

“He let me in,” Jonghyun interrupts, closing the door behind him. The knob clicks shut, and Minhyun would stand up, open it, and walk out, intending to go and berate his secretary, but Jonghyun leans against the wood for moment, looking Minhyun directly in the eye, and for some reason, Minhyun feels like he’s being presented with a gun to the face (it’s happened before, but this time around, there isn’t a blonde bastard wearing a pair of huge sunglasses here to protect him with an even larger rifle).

“What’s your problem, hmm?” Jonghyun asks, and now he’s striding towards Minhyun’s desk, and Minhyun feels the urge just to backpedal in his chair, but of course he’s going to hit the glass pane behind him and it’s totally _not_ in his brooding and cold CEO image to be scared of the _associate director of finance._

“You’re asking _me_ if I’ve got a problem,” Minhyun states, lowly, watching Jonghyun stalk up to his desk and place his palms on the wood of his table.

“Yes,” Jonghyun replies simply, and the expression he wears isn’t exact angry, but more so one an interrogator or a therapist would use in order to convince a subject into believing a statement. “You _lied,_ Mr. Hwang Minhyun.” There it is again, _Mr. Hwang Minhyun._ Minhyun forces himself to not react in his chair. “Junmyeon never wanted anything with me. You just said that to get me away from Seonghee.”

Minhyun bites down, his expression cold and stern.

Jonghyun begins to pace back and forth in front of Minhyun’s desk. Minhyun follows his movement with his eyes, calculating. “You know, at the beginning, I thought it was because I said something wrong. Or, maybe I did something wrong. And I thought that maybe it was my fault, but then Minki talked to me and explained everything. He took me out to dinner--”

“He _what?_ ” Minhyun interrupts, “That motherf--”

Jonghyun holds up a hand. “Minki isn’t the problem here, Minhyun, it’s _you._ You were lovely when I first met you. Although, of course, it was clear you were used to having everything go your way, that didn’t mean that you didn’t bother at all to ask about _me_ and actually carry a conversation with _me._ I thought, wow, does this guy treat every one-night stand like this? But then you stayed with me the whole week. Then I thought that no, maybe I’m different. Maybe he actually likes me past the sex. You promised to meet up with me after we got back home. Do you even know how big of a surprise it was for me to see that you were actively _ghosting_ me?”

Jonghyun takes a breath, rolling his eyes exasperatedly. He seems as if he were berating a small child. “And then I talked with Minki. That guy is crazy, but I guess that makes sense because _you’re_ nuts as well, with that inflated ego of yours.”

Minhyun immediately scowls, raising his voice. “I--” he begins.

“Clearly, you find me attractive,” Jonghyun interrupts, “at least physically. Intellectually? I think so as well. But where your problem lies is not with me, but with yourself. Honestly, when Minki told me, I didn’t believe it, but apparently part of it is that I’ve never been filthy rich and therefore I’ve never had the time or opportunity to let my ego inflate to the extent yours has. Really, Minhyun? Just because I’m not someone whose blood borders on blue or who bathes in milk every day. And really, if you’re about to argue that you really have no emotion at all, please tell me why in the world you looked so distraught when I asked Seonghee for her card.”

There’s a growl rising in Minhyun’s throat, and at that moment the words hit him so hard, like a concrete wall has been thrown against his chest, that he wants nothing more than to grab onto Jonghyun and slam him into the wall. He’s almost rising in his chair, except Jonghyun takes his silence as an indication to continue.

“You think you’re able to outsmart anybody, but you failed to realize I was just playing your little heart, Minhyun. Do I really care about Seonghee? No, I only view her as a colleague, nothing more. I thought that maybe you told Minki to pull some strings and lead me on a goose chase, but turns out he was being truthful the whole damn time. You’re attached to me, and you _can’t help it._ ”

Jonghyun’s breathing has quickened. His breaths are shallower, and Minhyun can see the rise and fall of his chest through his dress shirt -- Minhyun remembers watching that movement when Jonghyun laid next to him, sleeping the morning away. But that peaceful image does nothing to extinguish the flame that’s rising within him -- how _dare_ Jonghyun say he has faults, especially when those faults are so utterly and excruciatingly true?

“Is that all that’s keeping you from me?” Jonghyun asks, and now he’s leaning over Minhyun’s desk, staring at him intently, and Minhyun can see his own reflection in Jonghyun’s eyes even through his narrowed vision full of contempt.

“I can see it breaking inside of you, Minhyun,” Jonghyun whispers, and now he’s almost sliding flat onto the desk, knuckles turning white with how hard he’s leaning onto his hands. “Why can’t you just -- I don’t know, why’re you being like thi--”

Minhyun’s already up on his feet, and the only thing he can do is grab onto Jonghyun’s collar, using the difference between their height and the iron strength in his grip to propel Jonghyun back. Jonghyun, caught off guard, stumbles, and he’s nearly falling backwards, hands wrapping around Minhyun’s wrist, but Minhyun pushes him back, slamming him against the door, and Jonghyun’s head thuds back. He almost loses vision, his eyesight wavering, and he’s gasping at how hard Minhyun’s tugging around his collar -- his airway isn’t exactly cut off, he’s just shocked.

“Minhyun! What’re you--” Minhyun hears through the door, but he isn’t exactly paying attention, he’s glaring into Jonghyun’s eyes, wondering if he should shake him violently or kiss him violently, but then the next moment, the door opens, and Jonghyun’s falling backwards. His head knocks against Minki’s chin, and now all Minhyun sees is both his secretary and the person he loves in a mess of tangled limbs.

* * *

“I-I’m--”

Jonghyun sighs, rolling his eyes. “Save it for later,” he mutters, letting the side of his face hit the pillow behind his head. “Keep it until I can walk, see, and hear properly.”

“I should’ve quit,” Minki muses, holding an ice pack to his chin, “I could’ve lost my teeth from how hard your head is, Jonghyun.”

Jonghyun huffs, a small smile playing on his lips. “So,” he murmurs, and both he and Minki turn towards Minhyun, who looks uncomfortable guilty -- it’s probably his first time experiencing guilt in two decades.

“I really, really, truly am regretful,” Minhyun says, with a sigh, and he closes his eyes, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

Minki snorts. “It’s all your fault, you elitist bastard,” he mutters, but his lips quirk into a smile afterwards, because although he always expresses anger at Minhyun, rarely any of that seeps past surface level.

Minhyun’s too tired to bicker. He just rubs his palms on his face, and Jonghyun painstakingly scoots over so that he can lean his cheek on Minhyun’s back. “Hey, if it really makes you that uncomfortable, I’ll stop,” he whispers. “I’ll even ask Minki to stop too,” he adds, glancing up and staring pointedly at Minki, who cracks a silly grin.

“It’s alright,” Minhyun murmurs into his hands, and now his voice is so quiet it’s difficult for Jonghyun to hear. “I’ll be okay. I’ll work on it. You were right, Jonghyun. Everything you said was correct.”

“For the sake of my chin and Jonghyun’s head, you’d better,” Minki mutters exasperatedly. “If I’d broken something and Jonghyun ended up with a concussion, you’d be footing two hospital bills.”

Minhyun can only mumble something into his hands.

“You promise?” Jonghyun asks.

Minhyun lifts up his head, and after he takes a deep breath, he says, “I promise.”

“Fuck, should’ve recorded that,” Minki whispers under his breath before Minhyun shoves a hand in his face.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah idk what I did this is a terrible love story


End file.
